Crossing Lines
by AeriaXGloris
Summary: It's been 2 1/2 years since Ed found himself in Germany under mysterious circumstances. He falls into routine, until a strange woman with a hunger for money and bloodshed comes barreling into his life, her former employers hot on her heels. They want Ed dead, and that never goes over well in this world. And what this? It certainly isn't alchemy. EdXOC
1. The Finer Art of Sneaking

A.N.: Rewritten! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, or any of the characters involved.

She was somewhere in between Hoch street and hell in a city that should have been burnt down. She had her eyes on her feet, her hands in her pockets and her mind on the events that would unfold within the next ten minutes. She forced her brain to come to a halt; you can't think too much. You should never think too much. When you think too much, you look like you're thinking too much, and when you look like that, you get noticed. The art to not being noticed is to look like you aren't worried about being noticed. In order to not look like you're worried about being noticed, you can't worry about being noticed. Not necessarily rules to live by, but certainly rules to stay alive by. That day, however, was a little hard to look inconspicuous, especially when she had enough energy coming from her hands to blow the head off a full grown elephant. At the thought of blowing a person's head off, she looked up quickly to make sure the blonde man was still ahead of her.

All she was tasked to do was to watch, follow, and kill when you can, and be unseen. She was always told that if you can hide in plain sight, you can hide anywhere, and this disgustingly cute city at the edge of the earth was certainly anywhere. There were a few people on the streets; hookers, business people who were heading home late, and the occasional groups of youth spouting profanity and shoving each other playfully. She heard a dog bark somewhere in the distance, causing the hairs on her neck to stand up and a drop of sweat to roll down the side of her face. _I am not afraid of dogs_, she thought to herself. Dogs _know_ things about you. Dogs can sense your fear. Dogs know when you're a threat, and at that very moment she believed that dogs knew what she was about to do. This irrational fear caused her façade to slip momentarily. She didn't like dogs.

She rummaged through her pocket with her unoccupied hand, gripping a half-eaten chocolate bar by the foil wrapper and breaking a piece off. She hurriedly shoved it into her mouth; simply the idea that she was eating a food that could kill a dog soothed her nerves.

She saw the man shrug his wide shoulders, and look behind him. She averted her eyes quickly, but saw enough of his profile to know for sure that it was him.

She was a bit taken aback the first time she saw the man. The picture was taken from a distance, obviously by an individual perched in a tree, if the fuzzy leaf border was any indicator. She hadn't expected him to be so young. His face was hard; that seemed to be the only word to describe it. He had a cleft chin with a dusting of stubble on it, a small scar on his forehead, a nose that might have been broken a few times. He had a hard mouth, with a line on the left side of his mouth that might have been dimple had he smiled. She doubted he ever smiled. His hair was a dark gold, long and thick, gathered haphazardly into a ponytail on the back of his head. It was his eyes that made him so easy to identify. They were wide set, set into a shadow by his brow, but even in the semi-darkness of the photo I could see that his eyes were a brilliant gold. They were eyes that had seen too much. Although he only appeared to be around twenty, his eyes made him look hundreds of years old. He was a distinctive looking man; when you saw him once, you wouldn't forget his face.

But even so, Germany was absolutely crawling with blonde haired men of average height, and she couldn't really look the man in the eyes in order to identify him.

Thankfully, the day she had arrived in Nuremburg she caught wind of his whereabouts. The female bartender at the pub she stopped in was absolutely besotted with a man named Edward, who looked almost exactly as she had described. After some more prodding and small talk, she got his most frequented places and the general area in which he lived. She left her a generous tip.

She had just begun to walk across the street when she saw a long blonde ponytail swish around the corner of a building. Sure enough, it was him. And thus she found herself following him.

She noticed almost immediately the strangeness of his gait. It would have been completely overlooked by a person who hadn't been looking out for it. He favored his right leg. Nowhere in his dossier did it say that he was injured, or an invalid. Either way, it would prove helpful if a chase ensued.

As they walked, the streets became less cramped by apartment buildings and turned into country. She knew she had been found out blocks before, but she was simply doing as she was ordered. There was no specific protocol she had to follow.

H0e stopped just around the bend of a hill, and turned to look at her.

"Who are you, and why are you following me?" His voice was deep and gravelly, more bored than anything. His guttural German accent, mixed with something else unidentifiable, made his English a little hard to understand.

"I don't really know." She answered him in German.

His glorious eyes narrowed, and his face took on a sinister look.

"I don't appreciate skirting around issues. If you're going to fight me, or try and abduct me, do it now."

"I wasn't told to fight you, or abduct you." She cocked her head to the side, waiting to see what he'd do next. "I was simply told to kill you."

"You weren't told to..." He repeated her words under his breath, his eyes looking off into the distance. He appeared to reach a conclusion, and turned his attention back to me. "Thule Society?"

She hitched her shoulders up, and she got a bit clammy. "I'd hope not. This is the nineties."

"Do you know who I am?" His stance was still coiled, ready to spring, like some great lion.

"No."

"Do you even know who you're working for?"

"Like I said, no."

"So then it's safe to think that you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Yes."

He raised an eyebrow at this.

She took her hands out of her pockets, and took one of her gloves off. She could feel the currents of electricity running down her arm and through her fingertips. She raised her hand towards him, ready to strike.

Just then, a deafening groan tore through the air, and the man was forgotten. The ground started to shake. In a cloud of dust, the earth split in front of her, debris flinging huge chunks of rock and dirt through the air. She turned her eyes back to the man, who looked just as confused as she felt.

Those golden eyes were the last thing she saw before she felt a sharp pain in her chest, and everything went black.


	2. In Which He Starts His Peculiar Day

A.N.: I'm totally excited about this story, and I hope you guys are too. I got a little sick of the whole, 'Ed's got his alchemy back by magic, guys, the ending of the manga/anime never happened'. So I'm shaking things up a little bit. Takes place about 5 years after the ending of Brotherhood, with some Shamballa elements in there as well.

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything.

The sun rose over the jagged horizon, lighting the city with an orange glow that became thick and heavy through the cold, icy mist in the air. The ground was hardly visible between the rows of apartments and warehouses, giving that part of the city a claustrophobic feel. With the near-breaking of the sun into the sky came the abominably piercing sound of a train whistle, the rusty atrocity ambling its way through the rows of buildings. As the train passed between the buildings, they shook down to their bases, causing snow to fly up into the air and down on unsuspecting citizens. Soon, the smallest particles coalesced into a foreboding, white cloud that floated around the tops of the city structures, creating some kind of hellish halo around the area.

The train chugged by one of the final apartment buildings, the sound echoing through the halls, reverberating up the winding staircase and into a certain apartment. It was as if the acoustics in this room caused the grating sound to be louder than anywhere else in the city, and in reaction a loud groan came from a Lump on the bed in the center of the room.

The Lump moved, and produced a prosthetic arm in order to push a pillow over the thing's head in an effort to block out the sound.

"-d think they'd run these fucking things in the middle of the day, not at the ass-crack of dawn," said the Lump.

The rumbling of the train soon reached its apex as it passed directly by the window, causing the window to rattle in its frame, and shake the dingy glass of water off of the stack of books next to the bed. The glass shattered, causing the Lump to throw back the blankets to reveal its true form: a disheveled Edward Elric.

He yawned, scratched his bare belly, and was annoyed to notice a bit more softness there then there usually was. He looked down at himself, and frowned. Pinching and pulling at the small amount of fat, he suddenly wondered how he got where he was.

However, thinking that way often led him to the question of why he was _here, _in Nuremburg, and thinking that way sent him into quite a state. Hours of trying to begin to comprehend what got him here often meant his hand cramping around a pencil and soul-crushing let downs. The second bedroom in his apartment was dedicated to stacks upon stacks of written theories, accumulated over the course of the two and a half years he had been here.

There was no Gate. Not anymore, anyway, not for him.

He knew this for sure. And, as far as he knew, the Thule Society had disbanded shortly after he had been returned to Amestris. So, the enigma of his return, as swift and painless as it was, was deeply unsettling.

A bright, white light. That was it; that was all it took. He had found himself in a hospital, with strange machines hooked up to his left arm, his right prosthetic missing. He was released that day. Nothing had been taken from him. If anything, something had been returned.

He could feel it. It was distant, almost unnoticeable, but he could definitely feel it. It was that throb, deep in his core, that distinct feel of power. It had to be alchemy. It couldn't be anything else, because he firmly believed he would go mad if it was.

He shook his head and swung his legs off his bed. He winced at the still-unfamiliar rub of his new prosthetic on the stub of his leg. This world had a lot to learn about fake limbs, as far as he was concerned.

Padding his way to the door frame of his bedroom, he grasped the thick metal bar above his head with his good arm. His body already shaking from the exertion, he pulled his chest up to the bar. He could have stopped, but that little bit of fat on his normally toned stomach would haunt him at night. He could see his brother clapping happily; he always complained he was too thin these days.

He ground out that memory by pushing out fourteen more pull ups. He blamed the moisture in his eyes on the sweat.

Still grasping the bar, he swung his body upside down, hooking his legs onto the bar. He gritted his teeth as he worked his stomach, each crunch he did brought him closer to ridding himself of the aftermath of the delicious almond torte from the tavern down the road.

At the thought of the tavern, he smiled as frizzy blonde hair and a big, pretty smile flashed through his mind. Brigitte was sweet. She was a nice distraction when he tried to get his mind off other things. She wanted more, he knew she did, but he just couldn't form bonds on this earth when he had a life to return back to. He didn't have a reason to stay here, and he certainly didn't want one.

He showered and struggled to find substantial winter clothing. It never got this cold in Amestris. This was a bitter cold, stinging and awful on his metal prosthetic ports. He finally settled on the one pair of jeans he owned and his two thermal undershirts he managed to find on his way home from that first day at the hospital.

Not that he didn't have money. He had plenty of money. His father had been smart about that. That small amount he had put in there had gained interest, and had turned into quite the amount after seventy years of sitting in the bank. He didn't know how long he was going to be on this earth, so he was cautious with his spending. With no record of him even existing, getting a job would be a problem.

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the money issues and focusing on his now violently grumbling stomach. He walked to his little white refrigerator, swinging the door open with a smile, only to have it fall as soon as he observed the contents: an old, black banana and some nondescript jug in the back that had 'Tea' scribbled on it in his shit handwriting.

He reached for the 'Tea', practically climbing into the contraption to get to it. As he pulled himself out, he slammed his head on the top part, causing him to drop the jug, and it busted, sending the dark liquid spreading from one edge of the kitchen floor to the other.

"_Hurenson_!" He screamed it, slamming the refrigerator shut with a force that nearly knocked the thing over.

Quite suddenly, he felt his hand go numb. He thought he saw a blue glow come from his ring finger, then a small spark. He blinked, holding his hand in front of his face, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary.

Certainly he had just seen that..?

He mopped the mess up, still thinking about that spark. It hadn't been alchemy, because one: it was impossible, two: he hadn't felt himself tap into any energy. It had to have been a hallucination, certainly. Maybe he wasn't sleeping enough. '_Or maybe I'm delusional from the hunger,' _he thought angrily to himself.

He walked out of the apartment, shrugging on his thick coat and gloves. He'd have to get take out, maybe shop a bit. The minute he stepped out of his apartment building, the cold air hit him in the face like an angry lover, swirling the snow around his boots and up under his shirts, leaving a trail of ice wherever it touched. He folded his arms across his body the best he could, and trudged on.

The beauty of the town was undeniable, as much as he hated it. All of the buildings appeared to be glued together with icing, as if he could walk right up and take a bite out of them and they would taste like gingerbread. And with the coating of snow over everything, as cold and horrific as it was, cast an ethereal feel over the town.

He spotted the worn wooden sign of Wagner's Bar, thought of Brigitte yet again, and walked in, the ghost of a smile on his face. She was at the bar, her overly large glasses on and reading. She didn't even bother to look up as he walked in.

"What can I get you," she mumbled to her book, obviously absorbed in its contents.

"Some service."

Her eyes flung to him at the sound of his voice, and her smile flew to her face.

"Hello, Edward! You're here a bit early, eh? Why do you smell like tea?"

A twitch formed in his eye, but he gritted his teeth in some semblance of a smile. "Long story. Can you get me a scone and a coffee?"

"Sure thing!" She ran into the back room with more speed than he thought she possessed, and came back not much later, coffee in one hand and the scone in the other.

He had it stuffed in his mouth before the plate even hit the bar. It was warm. He smiled around it, shamelessly munching on it like a starved man.

Brigitte giggled, setting his steaming coffee down. She put her chin in her hand while she watched him eat. A dreamy look came to her face as she stared at him, and Edward suddenly became uncomfortable.

"Do I have chocolate on my face?"

Her entire face turned a peculiar shade of red and she shook her head, unable to say anything other than a squeak. He raised an eyebrow and continued to eat his scone, though a bit slower.

He sucked down the coffee. It was weak, nothing like what they had in Amestris. He smiled anyway, and put down the correct amount of change.

She cleared her throat. "Um…You know, Ed, they have a really neat new store in town, just outside the city square. Old antiquities and such. It's the kind of stuff you would like. Ancient books, cool nick-knacks."

"Oh yeah? What's it called?"

"A pretty queer name. 'Promises of Shamballa'."

Ed spewed the coffee out, hacking on the rest that had slid down into his lungs. Brigitte ran around the bar and came to his side pounding on his back.

"Oh my God! Are you okay?"

He gasped for air, his back now sore. "Yeah, just fine." He motioned to his neck, a half-hearted chuckle escaping, "scones, eh?" He winced, her fist still pounding his back. "You can stop hitting me now."

Her face turned that shade of red again. "Sorry."

He nodded, and stood up abruptly. He had to check this place out. "Where's this place at, exactly?"

She started to blink rapidly, staring at his chest. "Ehm, you won't miss it. It's in the old party-favor shop outside the city square."

He gave her a dazzling smile, and he thought she was going to fall over. "Thanks for the breakfast, Brigitte. I'll see you later."

Before she could even say a word, he was out of the door.

...

He knew the woman was following him.

He had been wrapped up in his thoughts on this new possible lead, when he felt eyes on him. It was a feeling he knew well; all those years hunting humonculi taught him to trust his senses. A quick glance behind him confirmed his conclusion.

She was tall for a woman. Even with her dark, curly hair in her face, he could see the intensity in her eyes. Her sights were trained in on one thing, and that was him. She quickly looked away when their eyes met, changing immediately from a lioness stalking its prey to an interested tourist, but that brief contact told him everything he needed to know.

He nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders and turned onto the road leading out of town. If there was going to be a problem, he would do it as far away from human contact as possible.

He kept his eyes forward, rolling his shoulders every once in a while to test out his prosthetics. The arm would probably be useless in a fight, but it was what he had to work with. She seemed a bit frail anyway.

Finally on the edge of town, he turned to face her, anger burning in his gut. He thought he was done with these bastards.

"Who are you, and why are you following me?" There was no way she was German; he went for English.

"_Ich weiß wirklich nicht_."

Cocky bitch.

"I don't appreciate skirting around issues," he said, reverting back to German, "if you're going to fight me or try to abduct me, do it now."

"I wasn't told to fight you, or abduct you." Her eyes were dead, and her head fell to the side, as if her neck got tired of holding it up. "I was simply told to kill you."

This stopped Ed in his tracks. He thought of anyone who could possibly want him dead, and could only decide on one thing. "Thule Society?"

She denied it, and decided to believe her. The color she lost in her face at the mention of their name was proof enough. But who would want to kill him?

"Do you know who I am?"

"No," she said, her mouth lingering on the word a little longer than he'd like. She _was_ cocky.

"Do you even know who you're working for?"

She denied it yet again. A hired killer? He'd dispatched of those more than once in Amestris.

"So then it's safe to think that you don't know what you're getting yourself into." He felt bad for her.

"Yes," she said, a smile worming its way onto her face. This took him aback. There was no happiness in that smile, simply anticipation. She reminded him of Kimblee, with that expression.

Just then, Edward caught sight of somebody behind her.

It was an old woman, hunched over and blind. Raising her hands towards the both of them, she shouted something, and ground split, spitting out pieces of debris. Edward dodged all of the larger pieces, but he felt a warm trail down his face from under his eye.

He looked toward the woman, just before a sizable piece of rock hit her in the chest. She flew back and crumpled to the ground, her eyes rolling back in her head. He hadn't gotten anything out of that woman.

He jumped across the newly created fissure, and without thinking, hoisted the woman onto his shoulder, and ran.

The old woman shouted something behind him, but he heard nothing.

He would get answers from this woman, if it was the last thing he did.


	3. Hand Turkeys and Complications

A.N.: Let me know how I'm doing!

Disclaimer: I, Manny Agnès LeBlanc, do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Thank you and good night.

Edward Elric had just recently decided that he hated running.

It was the adrenaline, causing his mind to run a mile a minute and make snap decisions that he would regret later. Normally, when he was worked up in a fight, the only thing he had to focus on was not getting his brother or himself killed. There was no big decision making taking place then; decisions like bringing a woman who admitted to planning to kill him into his apartment.

His feet hit the cobblestone street when he realized how stupid of an idea it was to take the main road hauling an unconscious woman on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He cut into the nearest alley, running behind rows of houses and hoping to a God that he didn't believe in that there wasn't any frozen puddles of waste water that would appear under his feet, because he could barely deal with the pain of his fucking stupid prosthetic leg as it was. Ignoring that last thought, he pushed through pain and focused on the back of his apartment building a few blocks ahead of him. He turned his head to make sure that crazy old woman wasn't behind him. It was empty. Of course, given whatever alchemy she had just used, she could easily transmute the ground into a platform, transmuting the ground as she went—

No. It wasn't alchemy. She had shouted something beforehand…an incantation? He shook his head, and kept running. He'd think of that when it came to it. For now, he had this crazy ass woman to think about.

He had reached his apartment building and pounded up the fire escape, the entire thing shaking violently. With his free hand he thrust his window open, dropped the woman on the floor without much ceremony, and checked the back alley once again. No one. He had no explanation for that old woman, if she had tried to blow him up, why not follow him and finish the job? Of course, she was blind. He smacked the heel of his hand to his head multiple times.

"Fuck it," he said under his breath; he had other things to worry about.

He stared down at the woman who was now face-down on his floor. Ouch. He must have dropped her pretty hard; she had a little pool of blood around her nose. He poked her with his boot, almost afraid she would wake up. He couldn't fight, not with this fake leg giving him problems.

Limping to the kitchen, he threw open all of the drawers, digging around for anything he could find to restrain her with. He found a half a roll of silver tape, and decided this would have to do. He grabbed one of his kitchen chairs and pulled her onto it, taping her hands together multiple times and taping those to the chair, along with her feet to the legs.

Nodding at his handiwork, his sat on the couch, pulling his pants off and strapping his leg off with it. He had worn it raw. He massaged his joint, cringing at the pain. The only thing about these awful prosthetics was that they were light; he had always had an idea that the heavy automail caused him to be so…or rather, not grow as much as he had wanted. He had grown quite a bit, if he did say so himself. He hopped to the kitchen, grabbing some bandages and some wonderful cream Brigitte had given him for the blisters he had obtained from writing so much. He smeared that on and doubled up on the bandages, immediately feeling relief. He washed the blood off his face while he was at the sink, applying the cream to the gash he had received from the flying chunk of earth. It was a bit too close to his eye for comfort, and he could feel a bruise coming on.

Hopping back to the couch, he noticed the woman's head was at an uncomfortable angle, and smiled. She'd wake up with an awful crick in her neck. Served her right. He sank into the couch, pulling his prosthetic back on and his pants with it.

He had just finished buttoning up his pants when he heard the woman start to hack.

"Where…?" Her eyes flew open, and she tugged at her bonds, still coughing. Edward held his breath, but the tape held fast. She looked at him, thoroughly confused.

Ed smiled lazily at her. "Morning, sleeping ugly. As you have noticed, you are restrained. So you are going to answer questions, or I am going to start cutting off body parts. I'll start with your toes."

"Ugly, huh. You're one to talk." She said the comment off-handed, her eyes moving rapidly from side to side, in no way concerned with what he had just said.

Edward frowned. "Why did you try to kill me?"

She finally looked at him. "They told me to." Her eyes were blank. "Do not take it personally."

"I'll try not to," he said, standing, a yawn creeping up on him. "What's your name?"

The addicting habit caught on, and she yawned back. "I don't really see why that matters."

His eyes narrowed. "You're going to need to put something on your gravestone."

"That's not really necessary, either. They'll do the job for you."

"What?"

She blinked. "They told me if I failed to kill you, they would send someone else to finish the job. My head was an extra fifty thousand, but that was nothing compared to you. Maybe they'll kill me afterwards."

"Must have been a lot of money."

"Millions." She looked bored, yawning yet again.

Edward was dumbfounded. Who the fuck would pay millions of euros to see him dead?

"What's your name?" he asked again.

She crinkled her nose. "Astrid."

"What, that's it?"

"I don't know. That's just what they call me."

Edward sighed. "You really don't know anything."

She looked a bit defeated at that. "Not really. I know I was supposed to blow one of your arms off when I first made contact with you, which I didn't. And I know how to make a shank out of a toothbrush. And I also know how to make a hand tracing into a turkey." She spread out one of her gloved hands behind her.

After recoiling at how undeniably strange this woman was, he pondered what she had just said. 'Well,' thought Edward, 'whoever it is knows I am—was—an alchemist.'

"I'm going to need you to cut me free." Her low, raspy voice cut through his musings.

"What?"

"You say what a lot. Cut me free."

Edward guffawed, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. "F-fuck did you say? Cut you free?"

Her head flung back against the chair, her breath coming out in a large gust. "Come _on_. I failed, the money isn't up for grabs anymore. Besides, we're going to have to get out of here soon, now that they've sent the replacement."

"_We_, you said. _We_ aren't going anywhere."

It was a sudden realization that she knew where he lived. He couldn't let her go. Whoever she was working for could find him, and if they couldn't find him, they'd find Brigitte, the one person he actually liked in this world.

"Fuck." He said it with a finality that she must have recognized, because her head snapped back up to look at him.

"Look, Edward, you have the power here." She was suddenly serious, and she moved her arms in vain to prove that she couldn't move. "I was supposed to check in within the five minutes after you were dead. I haven't. They could have another person on the way right now to-"

The sound of the rattling door caused both of them to snap to attention. She continued on in a whispered hiss, "We are both going to die _right fucking here_ if you don't find us a way out of here, right now."

Just then, the door broke open with the sound of splintering wood, and shouting.

...

Astrid had been in jail a total of four times in her life, each time more enlightening than the last. The last time had been about six months ago at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility in New York, serving five to twenty-five years for attempted murder, on a one million dollar bond for her 'connection with the attempted murder of a beloved philanthropist'. The guy was actually deep into the Black Arts, and used many New Yorkers as a source for his horrendous experiments. Of course, citizens didn't understand this. Whoever her employers were made sure the court understood that she, Maria Allegrio, was wholly innocent, other than being in the wrong place at the right time. She was given a slap on the wrist after a court hearing four months into her imprisonment, and proceeded to become Andrea Watkins and delivered an amp of electricity through his black little heart on a stormy day. 'Philanthropist Dies by Lightning Strike' was plastered on the front page of every newspaper.

Her cellmate in Bedford taught her how to fashion a shank out of a toothbrush. Her cellmate in her incarceration before that had taught her how to braid hair. She supposed it just mattered what your background was when you came in there; after all, murder and burglary were pretty far apart on the ladder of severity.

Of course, nothing her cellmates taught her would prove to be helpful when dealing with her employers.

"_One more fuck up, you goddamn toaster, and you're dead. This is the last chance." _ It was a clean four million U.S. dollars, more than enough to get her out of the hair of her employers. She was sure they would both benefit from the arrangement; she had to admit it took two tries on every contract she'd had to finish the job. Life did get a little more difficult when you went from stealing century-old books to putting down people. Her target was handsome. Often, when they're pretty, they can't fight.

She wasn't sure about the latter, but could definitely confirm the first, that she was a foot away from him. He had completely taped her to his damned kitchen chair. He hadn't frisked her, because she could still feel her shank digging into the hidden pocket in her pants, but that really didn't matter when she couldn't move a bit.

She had woken up understandably confused. It was the smell of blood and fresh laundry and that warm undercurrent of whatever cologne he was wearing.

"Morning, sleeping ugly…" He continued on, but she was far too busy trying to figure out how much time had passed. This was her last chance, if the light streaming into the window was any indicator. She muttered something she hoped was witty back at him.

Under his slew of questions, she noticed a black shape pass in front of the window.

"I'm going to need you to cut me free."

She had been prepared to die, expected it in fact, but not like this; not duct-taped to a chair.

He had ridiculous look on his face, and laughed. She didn't blame him.

She felt terror slowly setting into the pit of her stomach. She was going to give him the power; she figured it wasn't such an awful idea since he hadn't killed her yet. She told him so.

Someone tried the door handle, and panic mode kicked in. She leaned forward, her face only a few inches from his.

"We are both going to die _right fucking here_ if you don't find us a way out of here, right now."

The door burst open, and she could hear Antoine shouting.

They were fucked. Antoine was top rung, God tier if you will, of the entire organization. He could take her out with one hand, even given her extraordinary situation.

"Edward," she said, using some knife he had withdrawn out of his sock to cut her legs free. He ignored her and continued to cut.

"Ed," she repeated, her eyes wild as Antoine continued to punch the door down. He was getting her hands free.

"I'll handle him in a minute." She whipped her head to glare at him from over her shoulder.

"Edward!" She slapped her hands, finally free, on both sides of his face, bringing it close to hers. "You're going to need to trust me for just a moment, if not because you believe that I care about your safety, but because you believe I care about mine."

His face got a bit red, but she ignored it. "He will _kill _you. He _cannot_ be beaten." Her eyes flashed to the window, and then back to him. "We _need _to get out of here."

Edward thought about this for a moment, massaging his knee for some reason, before nodding. He grabbed her wrist, just as the door flew open, and they both leapt out of the window. He pounded down the fire escape with her in tow, and she saw the black head lean over the window.

"We'll find you, but run all you want, Alchemist." His head disappeared back into the window, and Astrid turned her attention back to running and the crushing pressure Edwards hand was doing to her wrist. At the last word, his hand tightened, and she muffled a groan at the crack she felt.

"Where are we going?" She asked breathlessly, her chest heaving. He barely looked ruffled. "Look, thanks for cutting me free and all, but I'd like to be on my way. Besides, why would we make it easy for them? I'm only worth a fraction of your cost after all—"

"Shut up."

"Hey, Ed, why is my nose broken?"

He made a muffled noise. "Shut up."

She did.

He turned a corner sharply, and she almost fell off her feet.

She felt her leg numb, and she felt a current run from the sole of her foot to the ground, turning the snow around her foot into water. Edward noticed it, and glared at her in incredulity as he picked the pace up.

She hated running.


	4. Old Ladies and Dirty Little Secrets

A.N.: Hello, one and all, maybe just one, I have no clue how many people are reading this. ;_; Oh well. Please leave reviews! I love having confirmation that even one person is reading it. Or tell me if you hate it. Just tell me something. I'll even respond. (._. ) Love you all who favorited this story. You know who you are :D

Disclaimer: I still don't fucking own anything omg why

Edward reminded Astrid of a lion.

Maybe it was clichéd and overdone, but something about the rolling gait, his extremely wide shoulders swaying as though he were a ship and everything else was just the ocean, and his whole being exuding grace and that barely tamed spirit that reminded her of the animal. She had seen a lion rip into a zebra, once. She had been to Africa on a contract to procure some ancient powerful artifact and had taken some time to go on a safari. The guide said it was rare to see such a display with your own eyes. Everyone else on the tour either covered their eyes or screamed in horror; Astrid simply watched. Even the tour guild looked away once the lion ripped into the intestines while the zebra was still writhing and shrieking. She didn't know zebras shrieked.

She didn't know she could have such pretty thoughts about a man she had initially intended to kill, either.

Astrid was going to hate him soon. She could tell that with people, sometimes. He was going to ask her questions and force her to come with him on some underwhelming adventure that probably involved sleeping outdoors and fighting other Mancers that probably thought they were much more powerful than her, only to die a horrible death like they normally did.

_If Edward was a Mancer, he would probably wield lightning, too, _she thought. He was unpredictable. It was a bit strange he was pulling her along with him like he was, especially since she had been going to kill him. Maybe he was mad. She thought that was alright, because she was a little mad, too.

"Quit staring at me." He took his eyes off of the path ahead of him for a moment to glare at her with those peculiar eyes of his.

She looked away, her facial expression never changing, although she was a little embarrassed.

Well, she couldn't blame herself for staring. He was handsome. Tall, and quite built she had guessed. And those eyes. She blamed the shortness of breath from the chunk of earth she took to the solar plexus and not on how his dark blonde lashes framed those two little pools of molten gold.

Her foot caught on ice again and he raised her hand in the air to keep her from falling on her backside. All he ended up doing was hoisting her entire body an inch off of the ground by her aching wrist.

"Will you fucking pay attention to what you're doing?"

He picked the pace back up again, and she went back to daydreaming about what his body probably looked like.

He stopped short, and she ran into his back, nearly knocking him over. He glared over his shoulder again, a little vein popping out of his head in anger.

"Where are we?" She felt compelled to ask, even though she knew the answer. The name of the shop was in huge letters out front, 'Promises of Shamballa', intricate metal work framing the door and purple gold and red curtains blocking the inside of the shop from the view of the street.

"A place we can get some answers," he said, his jaw clenched firmly. He yanked her roughly into the shop, a variety of bells jingling as he walked in. Both of their mouths dropped open as the door opened up to a huge collection of everything possible, from little statues of elephants to huge painted screens that must have cost thousands.

A little old woman stood at the back of the shop, her gray hair coated in dust and snow. She stiffened as Astrid crossed the threshold of the store and she turned to point at the both of them.

"You will get that abomination out of my store, or I will kill you both!" Her arthritic finger shook directly at her, although she was blind.

"Calm down, granny, she's not going to do any damage while I'm here." He gave her a look as if to say, '_you had better not'_ and walked right up toward the old woman.

"You cannot control that one. Only in death can she be controlled." Her face exuded hate, and Astrid, for the first time in her life, felt mild shame.

Edward looked from Astrid's bright red face to the pale, washed out wrinkled one and crossed his arms. "I want some answers, granny."

Almost immediately her face turned into a warm smile, directed only at Edward. "Of course, child. Come in, come in. Just know you are responsible for that." She waved her hand in Astrid's general direction, her attention only half on her now.

Astrid followed behind like a lost puppy, hoping she truly was forgotten about, and no dark doors would be open to her past. She was curious, though. What the hell was an alchemist?

….

Edward watched the old woman completely lose her shit, and Astrid's face as it went on. She looked genuinely embarrassed. He didn't know what the hell was wrong with this world, but he wanted to find out.

The old woman led them to a back room which was filled with an aromatic fog, and led them to sit on some silk cushions on the floor. Even with her obvious advanced age, she sat down more spryly then Ed, who literally had to fall down in order for his leg to cooperate. Astrid eyed him warily before sitting down next to him.

She was certainly an enigma.

She had those dull eyes that didn't betray anything she was thinking. One minute, she was calmly telling him that she was sent to kill him as if she was asking about the weather, and the next minute she got all dramatic and pulled him up in her face while she told him to trust her. He didn't know what her problem was, but he had to make a decision whether or not to trust her, or drop her and slip off into the night at some point in time.

"Now, son," he snapped his attention back to the old woman, "I imagine you have some questions."

He rested his hands on his knees and tried to keep his mind off the girl sitting next to him, even when she had her arms wrapped under legs and her chin sitting on her knees, looking defeated.

"Yeah, granny, and I need some answers."

"First of all, boy, you will call me Miss Pearl or Ma'am."

Edward cleared his throat. "Yes, ma'am."

The old woman's wrinkles turned upward into some semblance of a smile. "Good. You know, boy, I knew the minute you fell into this world that you'd be a problem. I felt the rip in the Cloth, a hole in time, if you will."

His eyebrows came together in a frown. "That was a few years ago, granny. Why didn't you try to blow me up then?"

"Ho!" Her cheeks puffed out in the strangest display of disagreement he'd ever seen. "Blow you up, boy? If you want to worry about that, look to that hideous shell of a creature next to you! No, I was trying to _blow up _that thing, I was trying to help you. And I do not _blow up _people, dear. I am in full control of my powers."

He must have looked very confused, because Astrid piped up for the first time since they'd stepped foot in the store.

"Mancers. Different people of different families can control different elements."

The old woman's face took on an ominous look. "You will not speak in my presence, beast. You don't have the right to even breathe my air."

"Mancer? So you control whatever this undercurrent of power is through different elements? Perhaps based on geographical location." Ed looked down at his fingers, a strange look coming to his face. Astrid wondered what that was about. He looked back up to the old woman, looking generally interested. "Your specialty must be earth, or perhaps water if you used the water in the ice covering the ground in order to cause an explosion."

"Yes. What you said, and what _that_ said was correct."

Astrid narrowed her eyes. "You want to refer to me as an object again, you old bat?"

Edward put up his hand, his eyes closed in frustration. "Why, granny, do you hate Astrid so much?"

Pearl sat back on her heels, her face grave, her blind eyes closed. "She is evil, son. She will hinder your journey back to your world. She only brings people to where they don't want to be."

Ed could almost feel Astrid's anger radiating from her form. Her breathing became heavier, and he saw a small dribble of blood fall to the floor from her broken nose.

He turned back to the old woman. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Pearl turned her head to the side and spit. "Now, she takes lives. She used to do quite the opposite. She was one of the best, you see." Her sneer was mocking.

"Shut your mouth, old woman." For the first time since he had met her, Astrid sounded murderous. Not blank, not dramatic, just angry. Pure hate.

"She's a Necromancer, son. Her devil of a family brings the dead back for money. But she's cut from a different cloth, a very selfish cloth. You see, son, she brought back someone she wasn't supposed to. That's what got her where she is," she turned vaguely in her direction, "is that correct? Abomination." She spit again.

Edward went cold and could hear the words circling his mind.

Before he could react, Astrid's face went blank and she lunged forward, one hand on the old woman's neck and the other raised in the air over the woman's head, blue sparks appearing to drip from her hand and sizzle onto the ground, the wood dissolving. She had Pearl straddled, and she was going to kill her.

Edward got to his knees and grabbed Astrid by the hair, wrapping his hand around it twice and pulled as hard as he could. She flew off of the old woman, the sparks falling short of the woman's face and flying in an arc above their heads, a momentary dazzling light show that lit up the room in a silvery blue light. Her back crashed into him. He threw her into the wall where she slid down, taking many different accoutrements with her. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she crumpled into an awkward ball on the floor.

Pearl sat up, holding her neck where five welts were rising, angry and purple. Her breath came in heavy, rattling gasps. "Thank heavens for you, boy, she would have killed me."

"Nothing you wouldn't have deserved, you crazy old bitch." His stare was vile as he looked over at her.

"Excuse me?" Her blind eyes narrowed as she looked a bit off to the left of him.

Edward swallowed. He didn't know the exact way she was able to do what she – and apparently others in this world – did, but he would certainly learn. Until then, he figured a little sympathy could be the best thing for the both of them.

"You have no room to judge her." He stood slowly, brushing his pants off and trying to keep his anger under control. His blazing gold eyes met hers, but the effect was lost on her. "Imagine losing someone you loved." He walked over to where Astrid lay. "Now imagine being able to bring them back. Tempting, isn't it?" He picked her up, this time cradling her in his arms. At least he could understand her a little, now. "Don't deny it. If you could…if you had the knowledge…if you had the drive." The girl was light, lighter than he remembered. Had she been so fragile before? "You would do it. We all would, if the situation was right." He turned to leave, the pain in his leg and in his heart a bit worse than before.

He turned to look at the old woman one last time. "I think I've learned what I needed to, Pearl. I hope I never see you again."

With the jingle of chimes, he walked out of the store, and back out into the cold. He had to admit, he didn't feel it.

A pit stop, perhaps, and then a bit of a train ride, he decided.

...

Leave a comment, people! Tell me what I'm doing right and wrong, I'll appreciate it. - Manny


	5. A Pit Stop and Gratuitous Nudity

A.N.: Please review if you read! This chapter was pretty hilarious to write. Just getting the story on a roll, people. I'm trying to update every other day. Let me know if I make any mistakes, because everyone knows I'm prone to them. Loooove you all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist okay.

….

The back door to Wagner's Bar appeared almost instantaneously to Edward. He had been so preoccupied with his thoughts that all of his pains were forgotten and the mile long trek felt like moments. He looked down at Astrid, her black curly hair matted in sweat and blood and the ends of some sections melted from the fallout of her attack on the old woman. She was still out cold, but she held onto the front of his shirt with a grip so tight he was afraid to rip his shirt when the need came to put her down. It was childish. One of her strange and inexplicable sides, he guessed.

He shifted her to his left arm, his prosthetic pounding heavily on the door, the hollow mechanism clanking as he did so. He was surprised the thing didn't fucking break. He heard stomping and mumbling from the floor above, and looked silently on both sides of him to make sure whoever it was that was Astrid's replacement wasn't trying to make good on his offer of _'finding him, wherever he goes' _more or less. He pounded again for good measure.

"Wait a goddamn minute, I'm coming." The gruff old voice belonged to the bar owner and Brigitte's father, Alexander Wagner. Edward sighed as he threw the door open, a cigar clenched between his teeth and in nothing but an undershirt, his boxers, and a robe. He didn't flinch as he looked at him and the unconscious girl.

"Get in; you're letting the warm air out." Edward stumbled in, his leg having trouble with the steps. Alexander slammed the door behind them, and led them to the upstairs room on the third floor. Needless to say, Edward had about passed out from the pain of his leg. He felt blood soaking in through the bandages on his leg, even though he was sure he had double wrapped them.

"Put her here." He gestured to a small cot. Edward tossed her down on it, sinking down on the side himself and breathing in a sigh of relief.

"Look, thanks, Alexander, I really appreciate this and all—"

"Shut up." Edward's teeth audibly clicked as did just that. He respected this man, if not because he was a smart man but because he was the size of Major Armstrong, with none of his…charm.

"If you bring trouble into my bar, I'll make sure to see you right out on your ass, Elric, hurt girl or not." His massive arms crossed over his belly. "Now tell me what happened, and don't you dare lie to me."

What could Ed say? _Well, I have no clue why I'm toting this girl around beyond a connection that we both tried to raise people from the dead, especially since she tried to kill me. She might help me find a way back to my own world. _

"She's my…" Edward searched around for a word, but came up short. "It's complicated between us, but we were mugged just outside of town this morning while we were trying to work things out. We never saw the guy. He used a fucking rock." He touched his black eye and the small cut under it, wincing at the tenderness. "She came out a bit worse for wear, however."

Alexander nodded, his face set in a frown. "Now you're going to tell me the real story." Edward's heart sank. "If you weren't running from someone, you would have taken her to the hospital three miles down the road, boy."

Edward put his head in his good hand and sighed, trying to think of something.

"Her family…doesn't like me, to say the least. And they certainly don't like us together." He rubbed his cheek, and looked up at Alexander, his eyes hopeful.

"How'd you meet? She's not German. Probably Slovak, judging from whatever she's muttering over there."

Edward froze yet again. For fucks sakes, why did he over look that? "Accident."

Alexander raised his eyebrow.

"Car accident, I got off easy, compared to the rest of my family," he smiled weakly as raised his pants leg and rolled up his sleeve. "She was the nurse on call at the burn ward, and she was kind and beautiful, although you can't tell now." He gestured to the bloody mess on the cot next to him.

Something flashed in the older man's eyes; probably pity. That's what normally happened when he gave this half-assed story about his tragic life turning event. The part on the end was ad-libbed, though he had to admit it was pretty good.

"Okay, boy. I'll get you both a doctor. Just wait here, and don't let Brigitte know you're here." He looked down at the girl on the bed, and back to him. "She's a little sensitive about you, boy. I hope that girl there is worth it."

"Yes, sir."

Edward pulled his boots off the minute he left the room, throwing them at the wall. He thrust his hands in his hair. How did his life get so fucked up in the space of three hours?

"Ed? What was that—"

Fuck.

Edward rose to meet her, his hands up in the air, trying to keep her at the door.

"Oh, my God, Ed! What happened to your eye? Oh, my-!" She ran over before noticing the girl behind him on the bed.

Her face fell for a moment, and a look into Edward's guilty eyes told everything. "I guess father is getting you a doctor?"

Edward nodded, and Brigitte flew out the door, slamming it shut behind her. Ed put his head back in his hands when he heard the door crack open again.

"Some old lady dropped these off for you." Her face was beet red and she had tears starting to form in her eyes.

It was a large box, with only the word 'Edward' on it.

Peeling back the tape, what he saw inside made him want to vomit.

Two pieces of automail, an arm and a leg, glinted dully in the lamp light at him. He swallowed back some bile before taking the pieces into his lap, turning them from side to side. He figured she had so much in that store, it was no surprise she had automail too. They were a lighter version, a darker metal, not unlike the automail he had procured from the Drachman border. He smiled a little, thinking of that gruff blonde woman. He didn't think he'd ever miss her, until now.

At the sound of heavy footsteps, he slid the box under the bed as fast as possible before sitting up straight.

"Goddammit boy, I tell you to do one thing…she's crying now, you know. I hate to see my girl cry."

"Sir, she ran in before I could do anything."

"Shit…" The older man ran his hands through his thinning hair. "The doctor will be here in an hour. I'll bring you two up food when I have the time. Just sit still and try not to fuck anything up more than you already have."

"Yes, sir."

The man shut the door so hard dust fell from the ceiling, the entire building shaking.

"He's not very amiable, is he?" Astrid's voice rose in the silence and she crossed her hands behind her head.

Edward just sank down into the mattress, looking at her from over his shoulder, his elbows resting on his knees.

"What are you looking at?"

For the first time since he had encountered her, he really looked at her. She really wasn't beautiful. Her mouth was too big and her lips too full; her teeth were a little crooked. He really couldn't recall what her nose looked like before he broke it; now it was just blue and black and swollen. Her skin was pale, making scars on her forehead and cheeks stand out more. She had one large, knotted white scar extending from her hairline near her temple to her left eyebrow. Her eyes were nice, he guessed. They were light grey, a bit shocking with her complexion. Of course, caked in blood, she really wasn't much of a sight anyway.

"How's your chest?"

She grabbed at her chest, a malicious grin on her face. "I don't know, you tell me."

Edward glared at her, his face heating up a bit. "You know what I meant."

Astrid winced as she sat up, her back resting on the railing of the cot. She peeled her coat off, throwing it to the ground, and pulled her t-shirt off. Edward thanked whoever was up there that she had a tank underneath it. She sucked in her breath at the sight of her chest. A small silver necklace hung about her neck, appearing to be a connected star inside of a circle. She caught Ed staring at it and tossed it behind her.

"I didn't know so many different shades of purple existed." Gingerly touching her chest, she tried to put on a brave smile, but it was obvious she was in pain.

"Hopefully you didn't break anything. We're going to have to leave after tonight." Ed shifted his weight to look more fully at her. "A doctor will be here in an hour. You're a Slovak?"

The question caught her off guard. "Serbian, actually."

Edward nodded. Astrid reached out to touch his stub of a leg. He flinched away, before letting her fingers trace the bloody bandages and the metal automail port that was going unused for now. "I figured as much. Your gait betrays you, Edward Elric. How'd you lose it?"

He sighed and looked out the window at nothing. "It's a long story for later. Just like the story you're going to give me about this power you wield."

She frowned. "That really is going to be a long story."

"Good. The more I know the better." He rolled his shoulders back, relieving himself of some invisible burden. "I told the man who's helping us that we're lovers. It seemed to be the most logical explanation." His face turned a violent red at what he was saying, and Astrid smiled wickedly.

"Who am I to play? This is exciting."

"I was injured in a car crash, you were my nurse, we ran off together, and your family who disagrees just found us this morning. Hence the injuries to both our persons."

"Mhm. Romantic, Edward. Continue!"

He simply shrugged.

She frowned. "What, that's it? Why does my family disapprove of our coupling? Maybe mafia! Or just rich, upper-class, old money." She crossed her arms and put her chin her hand, thinking quite seriously on the matter. She looked up, and snapped her fingers. "Diplomats! It could also explain our discretion. Shit, I'm good at this."

Because she looked absolutely pleased with herself and Edward had a headache, he agreed.

The fine-tuned their story shortly before the doctor came in.

He was a thin man with a kind smile, and Edward decided he could be trusted.

"I'll check the girl first. I suppose you'll want to stay, young man?"

Edward made a non-committal sound.

The doctor stripped Astrid bare, poking and prodding and patching.

Ed did his best not to look, and not to look embarrassed.

The doctor just bandaged Edward's leg back up, though he was very confused by the automail port.

"It's just a dock for the prosthetic." The doctor decided to shrug that off.

He stitched Ed's cheek up after Ed assured him he didn't need anesthetic. A small bandage on that, and he was otherwise a bit banged up but just fine.

Astrid, however, was lucky to get away with just one broken rib. Her wrist had been dislocated (when had that happened? He wondered) her nose broken and she was dehydrated, but she should be alright to 'return to work' in the morning.

Edward paid the doctor and saw him out the door. Alexander came in almost immediately afterward. He had a stack of clothing and underthings for Astrid, undoubtedly from Brigitte. Even though he had broken her heart, she was still kind enough to help them out. He hated himself, just then.

With no shame at all, Astrid pranced toward the large man in her underwear, grabbed the clothes and kissed him on the cheek. He didn't think the man could blush, but it happened. He seemed to be in a hurry to leave the room.

She pulled the t-shirt over her head, the bottom barely reaching below her navel. Although a smaller size than Brigitte, she was much taller. The pants were not wearable, according to Astrid. She pulled back on her black pants (had they always been leather?) and shrugged her jacket back on.

"We should probably leave now." She seemed a bit on edge.

"What? Why?"

"If the old woman knew where we were, then Antoine will too." She readjusted her necklace, gingerly putting it back under her shirt.

"Who the hell is Antoine?" Edward's eyes narrowed.

"Are you jealous, lover?" Her smile looked a bit crazed, and when he didn't smile back she sighed.

"He's my replacement. He can't be beaten. The best we can really do is run, to be honest." She shrugged her shoulders as if it was common knowledge.

"Really? I'm sure everyone has their weaknesses." Edward still sat on the bed, thinking about the package beneath the bed.

"Maybe. But no one knows his."

"I'm going to need you to do something for me before we go, Astrid."

He began to lift his shirt, and she started to giggle. "Well, alright then."

Edward didn't think he had blushed so much in his life as he had within the past hour.

The dull, tan-colored plastic prosthetic was attached to his body with leather straps. Edward turned his back towards her. "I need you to unhook me."

Her face went a little blank, her smile gone, and she walked towards him. Her fingers were warm but efficient as she unhooked each of the straps, the thing falling to the ground with a dull thunk.

He bent under the bed and slid the box out. "You're going to have to follow my directions perfectly, you hear? I'm not going to go through this shit twice because you misaligned it." The flaps of the cardboard box were folded back, and Astrid let out a low whistle.

"These things must be worth millions. Each."

Edward's eyes burned into her. "Don't even think about it, you disgusting money-monger."

She threw her hands up. "You saved my hide for some stupid reason, I respect that. I'll help you with your multi-million dollar do-hickeys."

She reached down to pick up the arm and was shocked at its weight. "This thing must weigh fifty pounds!"

"I wouldn't doubt it." He sat up straight, grabbing a wooden carving off of the night stand, ready to bite down on it when the time to make the connection came. "Now, what you're going to do is connect the blue wire…" The instructions went on about fifteen minutes. Edward was a bit surprised that after five years he had been able to remember every detail. Astrid procured a screwdriver from Alexander, and Edward showed her how to interlock the arm to the port.

He placed the wooden statue in his mouth, biting down.

Astrid looked worried, but she nodded. "One, two…" she flipped the locking mechanism, and Edward let out a muffled scream. He spit the statue out.

"Fucking hell, goddamn son of a bitch, whoring bastard piece of shit…" He continued on under his breath, but he worked his arm, bending it this way and that, and Astrid's eyes grew wide.

"Holy shit. That has to be the coolest thing I've ever seen." She traced her fingers along the metal arm plate, her eyes wide with wonder.

Edward had to admit, it felt good. He had full range of motion. Of course, nothing could compare to those few months when he had an actual arm, but this was the next best thing. Never did he think he'd miss automail.

"All right, enough gawking. Now the leg."

He thought he saw something akin to hunger in her eyes as he unbuttoned his pants, but he was probably imagining things. She did seem a bit too eager to help with his leg, though. For the hundredth time that day, he wondered what that was all about.

He didn't think he was ever going to get used to life in this fucking world.


	6. Dirty Thoughts and Touchy Subjects

A.N.: This one is so short, but it was mainly just to get the trip to the train over with.

My guess is that in the 2 years and six months Ed was in Germany for no good reason, he'd try to find his way back and just stay fit, all in the comfort of his apartment. I figured the only human contact he'd have was with Brigitte, his landlord, and Brigitte's father, because what would these other-world people know about alchemy? How could he ever judge how he was growing? People can grow into their twenties, you know. I figure that the huge weight of the automail probably slowed his growth. So: we have tall Edward, with two and a half extra years of hair growth, not to mention the few years him and Al traveled the world. My thoughts on the matter. Wooooo

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist

…..

"You should probably get a hat."

They were on the street again, the cobblestones really rubbing her feet the wrong way in the boots she was wearing. She had put them on that morning for the intent of killing a person and leaving, and being home for noon tea. She could have cried at her current, ironic state.

Astrid was having a hell of a time trying to forget what Edward's (her target, for God's sake) body looked like. The massive expanse of chest and hard stomach, sprinkled with golden hair had obviously been gained from hard work and not hours in a gym. Of course, she was a little surprised at the missing limbs, but his godly physique made up for it. He was crisscrossed with scars, but that added to the effect. And his one leg was quite nice, she thought. She savored the feeling of his surprisingly smooth skin under her fingers while she could. She knew she would have to give him answers, and that she'd have to help him out of this mess she got him into, and he would hate her for it. She would hate him back. It was all she could expect, really.

"Why?" He was suddenly conscious about his hair, picking up the ends around his waist and peeking at them. He had lost his hair tie a few hours ago, probably on the run from that crazy old fart at the store. She herself caught herself before she touched her own. He had nicer hair than she did.

"It's your most obvious feature," she lied. That was his eyes, any person with feelings in their nether regions could tell that. "They'll be looking for a man of your height with extremely long, blonde hair."

His eye twitched. "What are you trying to say?"

She sighed. "Look, your hair is very nice, but—"

"No, before that." He looked forward, his face getting red.

"What, your height? Well, you're a bit tall, aren't you. Your dossier said you were average height, but I can see that that's not the case. I'm five-foot-seven, for fuck's sake, and you're a full head taller than me."

He turned towards her and literally looked like he was going to burst with joy.

"What do you estimate my height to be?" His words came out so fast, she hardly understood him. It almost didn't sound like German, but something else.

She was confused for a moment, but continued walking beside him. "Well, I would say around six feet."

He turned to face forward, mumbling something about five inches under his breath.

"I'm taller than my brother." He looked incredibly smug at that moment, chuckling under his breath.

"What's your brother's name?"

This broke Ed out of his reverie, and he turned sharply towards her, stopping abruptly. "Don't ever mention my brother again."

She put her hands up, continuing to walk, even though she wanted to shrink in fear at the hatred she saw in his eyes. She was caught aback by his reaction to her question. Of course, she didn't know why she had expected him to open up about his family. It was a little stupid of her.

"Where are we going?" She tried her best to avoid his anger. He was awfully frightening when he was angry. Strange, that she hadn't seen him angry until just then. She had tried to kill him, after all.

"Nuremburg Central Station." He looked to her, his previous mood completely dissipated, a cocky smile on his face. "How does Moscow sound?"

She frowned. "That's a day-long train ride. You realize this."

"Yes."

"We'll have to share a car."

"Yes." His face turned a little pink.

"For a whole day. Locked up in a sleeping car. All day."

"Yes."

"All day long. And all night. Of this."

"Yes, shit, I understand this."

Astrid blew her breath out in a quick huff. "Look, by now you know I'm in the same boat as you, even if it is my own fault. We've known each other for five hours, tops. We don't really get along anyway, we'll end up killing each other before the train even reaches the Czech border. Why don't we just go our separate ways? Maybe I'll go to Prague. I've always wanted to go to Prague."

"Feh. You'll spill my location the minute the replacement catches up with you on your sight-seeing journey in Prague. No way in hell you're getting out of this that easy."

The look on his face told her as much.

This was going to be a long trip.


	7. All Around Uncomfortable Situations

A.N.: I changed the rating for later chapters and because I didn't realize how bad I made Ed's swearing. ('_' ) Oh man. It literally makes my day when I get reviews! Thank you so much, you know who you are. :D

….

Astrid tapped her fingers on her face as she watched Ed deal with the ticket guy in such a charming manner that she doubted he was the same man. He even smiled at the guy! What was this shit? Something the ticket guy said caused them both to look over at her and she raised an eyebrow at them. Edward's trusty embarrassment kicked in and she suddenly wondered what he was thinking.

He looked like hell; he wondered how he explained that away. His eye stood out pretty and purple with his stitched gash underneath. It was strangely attractive, him getting stitched with no anesthesia. She had never enjoyed it when men bought her flowers, or took her out to an expensive restaurant. If she fancied them, she'd get it out of her system and be on to the next before they could make some stupid comment about how nice she looked that night. For some reason, his quiet display of urgency to get his wounds fixed and get out with struck a chord with her. It was something she would do, even if she did hate needles. And the strange experience of attaching his limbs to his those strange metal things bolted into his body!

She had an inane obsession with anything mechanical, the feel of cool metal and the plethora of multicolored wires, pretty much anything that had to be worked in order to have an outcome just fascinated her. Of course, she was a bit wary to continue when she saw the pain it caused him to connect the wires to the corresponding ones on his arm. He had left teeth marks so deep in the wood carving she was surprised he didn't split it in half. The leg wasn't as bad, almost as if he remembered how it felt and simply took it. Now, he looked and walked normal. His mechanic shoulder was a similar size to his other, where before it was quite obvious it was a prosthetic due to the puckering in his jacket. He didn't have a limp anymore, either. He seemed…happier? No. More at ease, if anything. She saw the blisters the other prosthetic rubbed on the skin above his port. He must have worn those million-dollar assets for a very long time. Turned out that old bitch was good for something.

She looked down at her nails at the thought of the old woman. She had no right to bring up what she did. That was years ago. It was her _life_, years ago. Her nails had been burned and melted down to the quick, and they hurt. You're never supposed to wield when you're angry. The energy could sometimes be too much to handle, and causing what the Mancer world called the Drips. It was the pure form of their channeled energy, and instead of controlling the element, it would produce get this stinging, raw, horrific substance that just pours out of the fingertips. She had nearly burned her fingers off with the shit more than once, and a few hours before had been no different. That being said, the Drips were as destructive to object of the Mancer's anger as they were to the Mancer themselves.

Normally, avoiding the Drips was extremely easy. Wielding was a lot like meditating; calming, relaxing, and just all together wonderful. Blissful, Astrid would say. But the things that woman said…

She found herself cringing as the thought of that day a few years ago came back to her. Shrieking calls of help, pleading with whatever could hear her, and blood, so much blood…

She shook that thought out of her head. It was over; she had done it. It was done. It could not be _un_done.

Thinking of things that couldn't be undone, she thought of the hell of the time she'd have trying to get back home. New York was quite a hike from Moscow. Serbia wasn't a choice, anymore; the Organization had made sure of that. Maybe if she could remember how to work those limbs of Ed's, she could drug him and steal them off of him during their long night they'd have on this damn train. They had to be million dollar prototype things. She had never seen anything like them, and she had seen a lot of things. She could get a plane back to New York and buy Times Square while she was at it. So much goddamn _money_ the things she could do with all—

"You coming, Astrid?"

Edward's deep voice cut through the white noise of the train station, the sun behind him hidden behind grey cloud, but casting a halo around his form that made him look ethereal. She had to admit, she liked him. Not more than a couple million dollars, but she _did_ like him. She sighed. This really was going to be a hell of a ride.

"Yeah."

….

Edward asked the man at the desk for a sleeping car for two. He knew that they had two foldable bunk beds in each car, so that was an acceptable distance for him between the two of them. This woman _had_ tried to kill him, after all.

"Sorry, sir, there's only one basic sleeping car left. It sleeps four, and three passengers have claimed it. I could put one of you in there if the passengers agree, and perhaps you—"

Edward put up his hand, trying to keep the amiable nature between the two of them. He was suspicious enough with his bruised appearance; he didn't need any more questions.

"Are there absolutely no other cars?"

The man behind the desk clicked a few buttons on his television-like device in front of him, before smiling triumphantly. Ed didn't understand this world. "Sir, we do have a deluxe cabin open. It has its own facilities. It is designated for one passenger, but the two of you should have no problem fitting on it." He looked toward Astrid, who was deep in thought, staring holes in his back. Probably thinking about how to stick a knife in it. He'd probably accidentally stick other things in _her_ tonight, given the size that this bunk probably was.

He felt his face burn. Granny Pinako, Granny Pinako, Granny Pinako…

"I'll take it." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He handed over the money, a bit worried at how much it was. He thanked the man at the desk and walked back toward Astrid.

"You coming, Astrid?" He was surprised at how easily her name fell out of his mouth.

She looked a bit excited about something, but he couldn't really tell. She was, after all, an enigma.

He would just have to focus on getting answers from her. It would be the only way to keep himself from doing something he'd regret.

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes roaming over him in that weird appraisal she did of him every few minutes. It was a little unnerving.

"Yeah." She had no discernible accent; although she had told him she was Serbian, he couldn't detect it. Her voice was what his father had called a 'bedroom voice'. It was deep, warm, and a little scratchy. It was the last kind of voice he would have expected out of her. She looked deceivingly innocent, to tell the truth. He looked at her for a moment, her large eyes wide and taking in the landscape. She looked for all the world like a tourist. He knew better.

They boarded the train, taking care to move through the crowds as nonchalantly as possible; they didn't need to attract any more attention. He knew how they must look; one with a black eye, the other with a broken nose, and probably looked like fugitives. He knew that once they were in the hands of the authorities, they practically be in the hands of whoever Astrid's employers were. Thankfully, they were able to get to the back of the train with no prolonged stares or curious whispers. Edward sighed in finality as he shut the door to the suite behind him, setting the lock.

The room itself was spacious; or at least as spacious as a train car could be. There was a plush chair and a nightstand on one side that would transform into the dreaded bed, and a tiny shower, sink and toilet separated from the room with an accordion door on the other side.

Astrid nodded approvingly as she looked around the room. She took the few steps it took to get to the wall and put her thinking look on again. She reached out warily, and then suddenly started pressing all of the buttons.

She cackled maniacally as the lights turned off and on, the chairs reclining and folding, and the blinds on the window going up and down.

A resounding _what the fuck _flew around in Edward's skull.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Astrid simply grinned. "Buttons. Don't tell me you aren't tempted every time you see one, because you would be lying."

He shook his head and turned to the bathroom area. "I'm taking a shower. Don't press any buttons associated with it, or I'll kick your ass. I'm serious." She frowned, but put her hands by her side. "If I don't wash this day off, I'm going to lose my mind."

She moved to the other side of the room, and flipped the one switch on that side. The chair made a whirring noise as it disassembled and sunk into the wall, and the bed flipped out, causing Astrid to squeal in glee. She was about to body slam it when he ducked into the bathroom, shutting the sliding door.

His shower was quick and cold because he couldn't hear anything else in the room, and that worried him. Drying off and putting on just some flannel pants and a t-shirt Alexander had lent him, he walked out quickly, afraid what he would see.

Astrid was simply looking at the bed, silent.

"Where are you going to sleep?"

He gestured toward the bed and looked at her like she was stupid.

"Where am I going to sleep?"

Edward sighed, suddenly very weary. "I'll let you figure that out for yourself. For now, I'm going get toothbrushes. You're free to the shower, I didn't use any hot water."

He trudged outside, waited to hear the water turn on, and then locked the door from the outside. She may be in his same situation, but that wouldn't stop her from killing him or running off when she could. She seemed crazy enough to jump off of a moving train. He went on a search for a smiling hostess, not only to get toiletries, but to make conversation with a blessedly normal person. She was in the next car over. She smiled at him, asking him about his room. He told her it was wonderful, and smiled at her. He took as many bars of soap and miniature tubes of toothpaste as he could carry and walked back to the car.

He opened the door, locked it again behind him, and threw all the toiletries on the bed. He picked up two toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste and knocked on the little door of the bathroom. Steam fogged up the entire room, the window misty and orange in the light of the setting sun.

"Astrid?"

"Come in."

He swung the door open, and stood still for a moment. He threw the toothbrush and toothpaste at her, slammed the door shut, and hoped it was impossible to die from embarrassment. He put his back up against the door, trying for all the world to block out the image of her wet, naked body stepping out of the shower. It was hard. Getting rid of the image was, that is.

"Goddammit, you said come in!"

"Uh-huh." She seemed preoccupied with drying herself off.

"You're naked!"

"Yep."

Edward became increasingly agitated. "Next time you're naked, say so, for fuck's sake."

"Kinky." She sounded bored, of all things.

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEANT!" He shouted, feeling his entire face turn red. He thought he was going to pass out.

"Alright, geez. I don't know what your problem is with bodies, Edward, we all have one. Well, I mean, you have half of one, but I guess the idea still applies."

"I'm aware of that, that doesn't mean we walk around showing it to everyone!"

He stomped over to the bed, scooting to the wall and throwing the covers on himself. He faced towards the wall just in case she decided to come out again.

He heard the faucet turn on and the distinct sound of brushing teeth, the rustling of clothes, and humming. It was strange how these sounds relaxed him. He was about to fall asleep when the sound of the door opening reminded him of his current situation.

Astrid stepped out of the bathroom, a similar outfit to Edward's on, her hair springy and damp and her face refreshed. He heard her pad over to the bed, and she sighed.

"What." He was about to drift to sleep yet again.

"I want the wall."

He peeked out from under the covers, glared at her for a minute, then covered himself again.

"Sleep on the floor."

"No! I have a broken rib, remember?" Her voice took on a whiny tone.

"That's your own damn fault for trying to kill me." His voice was muffled under the covers.

"It's not! It's that annoying old woman's fault."

Edward chuckled. "If the 'annoying old woman' didn't do what she did, I'd be dead thanks to you. I think escaping death trumps broken rib. Therefore, I get wall."

He could almost hear her pouting. "Please?"

That was a first.

He kicked the blankets off in frustration. "You're lucky I need to brush my teeth."

She grinned and hopped into bed as he stepped out of it. He brushed his teeth, and was about to argue with her again for the wall side, but he saw the look of happiness on her face and decided to just leave it be.

He turned the main light off and squeezed onto the edge of the bed.

He was about to drift off when her backside nearly pushed him off.

"Would you scoot the hell over?"

"I'm squished, idiot, I can't phase through walls."

"And you know someone who can?"

"Not now, dammit, can we just go to sleep?"

Edward grunted in anger. "I can't go to sleep with my ass half-hanging off of the mattress."

"Well I can't get any closer to the wall then I already am. So, tough."

He was so exhausted, he would have done anything. He contemplated sleeping on the floor, but his ports were still a little sore from the shoddy connection job Astrid did on them. A crazy idea came to his head, and he figured he'd act on it. He was a little too tired to be embarrassed just then.

"Okay, here." He grabbed her shoulder roughly, turning it towards him. "Put your head on my chest."

She rustled her head up from the covers, an incredulous look on her face. "What?"

Ed gritted his teeth. "Just fucking do it. It'll cut the space we take up in half."

She shrugged and put her arm around his stomach, her leg across his and laid her head gingerly on his chest. He raised his arm and put it under her head so she lay in the crook of his shoulder. He was surprised at how warm she was.

"You try anything, and I'll know. I'm sleeping with one eye open."

"Really? What would I possibly do?"

"You told me you can make a shank out of a toothbrush."

"Oh."

He grunted.

"Well, I don't have anything to sharpen it with. So, your logic is flawed."

He felt her heartbeat slow and her breath fall on him in a deep, easy pattern.

"My logic is never flawed."

He ended up falling asleep with both eyes closed.


	8. Astrid

A.N.: I MADE ALL THIS SHIT UP. I know next to nothing about actual Necromancy, I've never read books on it. But here's Astrid's sad, disturbing story: cliffsnotes version. I'm also not Serbian, I'm French as fuck, so I'm going to try my best to put as few Serbian references in there.

DISCLAIMER: Hiromu Arakawa is a Goddess amongst men. I do not own her wonderful work, Fullmetal Alchemist. I shall go cry now.

…

Astrid didn't know where she was, but she was very warm, very happy, and not in a hurry to open her eyes. She could feel a stream of sunlight on her face, but she buried deeper into the warmth next to her and sighed. She felt an arm tighten around her, and the scratch of day-old scruff on her face and her eyes flew open. Her eyes connected with Edward's thickly corded neck and memories of yesterday hit her like a pail of cold water. She lay still, making sure she hadn't woke him up. Soft snores still came from him, so she took her time to look at him unabashedly. He looked a lot different when he was sleeping; his sharp, accusing, unnervingly beautiful eyes weren't open, he wasn't frowning, and his hair fell around his face. He looked almost childish. It was then that words her mother told her once came back to her.

'_Sex is one thing, draga. Sleeping with another person is another experience entirely. You have to trust the other completely.' _

She didn't think Edward trusted her at all. He probably just thought it would be easier to keep an eye on her from such close proximity. She supposed that she would have done the same. Moving as silently as possible, she gingerly grabbed his wrist to move his arm off of her.

Almost the second she touched him, he flew up in the air, his metal wrist coming down automatically down on her throat. He flipped his body over to straddle her, his eyes furious and unseeing. She clawed at his arms and his face, desperate to wake him up. He had completely cut off her airway. If she didn't wake him up soon, she would die.

Taking both of her hands onto his flesh arm, she used her last bit of energy to zap him as gently as possible. He shuddered, his eyes blinking rapidly as he looked around the room. She slapped his face with all of the strength she mustered, and he frowned. The moment his eyes met hers, he opened his mouth silently in horror and leapt off her, his hair swaying violently around him like a whip.

"Shit!"

Astrid bolted upright, choking and gasping for air. Edward raised both of his hands, looking helpless.

"You. Bastard," she gritted out between coughs. Seeing she was well enough to speak, he ran over and tilted her chin up, crossing both of her arms on top of her head by force.

"Stop struggling! It'll help you breathe. What the hell were you thinking?"

She gulped in the air, thinking it never had tasted so sweet. "What was _I _thinking? I had to piss, that was what I was thinking! I tried to get untangled from you when you went ape shit."

Her breathing got back to normal, and Edward backed away from her. "You okay?"

She nodded. "I should have slept on the floor." She gave a half-hearted chuckle, but she was serious. Now her throat burned _and _they had this weird new intimacy. She could see it in his eyes; it was that look that's gained only by spending the night in each other's arms, and she was sure neither of them wanted it.

Ignoring the need to assure him that she was okay, she frowned at him. "Quit looking at me like that."

He turned his back and walked to the bathroom, filling up a plastic cup with tap water. The second he put it in her hands she swallowed the whole thing in one gulp, his face blank but his eyes intent as he watched her.

He took the cup from her and she fell back on the pillows, still breathing heavily.

After putting the cup on the counter, he pressed the button to raise the curtains in the cabin, the whole room flooding with a golden light that glanced off the snow-covered trees that rushed past. She caught sight of a few skyscrapers in the distance, and her heart sank. He leaned against the frame of the window, his eyes going blank as he looked outside.

"We're not going to Moscow, are we?"

His face became cold. "No. We're going to London."

"Why? That's the complete opposite way from Moscow. Unless…" Her brain clicked. "You thought I'd rat, didn't you? Asshole!"

"Can you blame me? Really?"

She sat quiet for a minute. "I don't lie."

He looked at her, his eyes fiery. "How would I know that? How could I possibly know anything about you? I can't trust you. I'm starting to think if I shouldn't have just finished what I had started a few minutes ago. For all I know, you're in cahoots with that fucking psycho who busted down my door and you're going to give me up the minute I get off this train."

"If it were up to me, I wouldn't come into the same country as that man. And you know as well as I that he'd kill me the second his got his hands on me." She felt her anger grow and her fingers started to burn. "And nobody says cahoots anymore."

Edward sighed. "That's the thing, Astrid. I _don't _know." He came over towards the bed slowly and sat on the edge. "Are you familiar with the concept of equivalent exchange?"

She looked at him sideways. "Of course."

He looked taken aback. "Oh…kay. Well. You give me your story, and I'll give you mine."

She sighed, fiddling with the sheets wrapped around her legs. She hated this more than anything, but if it meant the both of them moving on and her getting out of the deal alive, she had to.

"Okay."

He nodded, standing back up and giving her room.

"You're going to want to sit down. It's a long story."

He chuckled and sat down across from her, his mechanical leg tucked under his other one.

"You know the basics. Energy is channeled by Mancers, and different families are able to control different elements, but different elements working together can often have different outcomes. In order for me to explain that, I feel as though I should explain Necromancy."

He held his hand up as a knock came to the door, and warily crept towards the door. It was just the hostess, and she handed two breakfast trays to him with two bottles of water. He smiled at the woman and shut the door, passing one to Astrid.

"Go on."

She ripped a chunk of pastry off and chewed it thoroughly before beginning.

"I was raised in a fashion that taught me that money was everything. It was the make-or-break factor; it fueled marriages and divorces, inner-family feuds and alliances. It was everything. And we had a lot of it. You see, raising people from the dead is risky business." She rested her head in her hand, twirling her fork in the other. "The best paying jobs are the ones that can kill you."

Edward nodded in agreement.

She started to draw a five pointed star from the condensation on her glass with her finger on the tray.

"You need a Chanter," she touched the bottom right point, "The Chanter could be anyone familiar with the Old Language. He calls forth our energy and the energy of the spirit, and the ritual is able to begin. Without the Chanter, we could not begin. He doesn't have to be a Mancer, but Fire is preferred. Fire wielders are able to project their energy more violently than others."

She pointed to the right arm of the star. "The Seer. He is blind in this world, but not in the Hereafter. He is our eyes, and helps us navigate the River, where the spirits are. Without him, we would not find the spirit, and get the Wader lost in the Hereafter for eternity, and have disastrous consequences for all involved. He has to be an Air wielder."

She moved her finger to the top point. "This is the Wader. He is the only one who actually goes into the Hereafter. He drags the spirit out of the River and into our world. Without him, the spirit would not cross back over. He must be a Water wielder."

The left point was next. "The Tucker. He makes sure the spirit is in the body, and will remain in the body. Without him, the spirit would not take and break free, forcing to roam the earth as a specter; a ghost, whatever. He has to be an Earth wielder."

She came to the bottom left point, her finger shaking noticeably. "The Animator. She returns the human body back to life by administering electric shock, kick-starting the heart and brain. Without her, the spirit would be in a dead body. She must be a Lightning wielder. This is the final process in reviving the person of choice. This was my job."

The silence could have been cut with a knife.

"Necromancers are bred. You cannot become a Necromancer. You are born one. You must be one if you are born one; you have _no choice_." The last two words echoed in the room, and she looked into his eyes pleadingly. "_I _had no choice."

His face was blank. She took it as a sign to go on.

"Necromancy is the thing that Mancers know about, but refuse to talk about. It's a horrible thing, being able to cheat death. It goes against everything that being a Mancer stands for; to protect those who can't wield the energy. I know for sure we raised more than one evil man or woman that went to kill many citizens, but money talks, and that was obvious to me even when I was very young.

"My first revival was when I was seven years old. It was one of the heads of the Authority and Patriarch of the Water family, and his wife wanted it kept under wraps. Now, family is just a name. You don't have to be related; you just have to wield the same element. Things move more smoothly like that. But things don't move smoothly when the patriarch suddenly dies. The wife suspected foul play, but we didn't care. As long as the body was brought to us before midnight the day of the death, and they had enough money, we would perform a revival. No questions. It was better that way, because you could get the money without the guilt that you may have just brought back to life a serial murderer."

She stopped here, wanting to vomit. Edward still said nothing.

"We would perform about one to two every year, and the time in between was spent training in secret. Necromancy is incredibly hard, and incredibly illegal. My job was easy enough, but I had to perform it perfectly or the entire ritual would be in vain. I had to learn at an early age the inner workings of the body; how much electricity could restart the heart and when to stop before you fried the body completely. I was good at it. I was the best."

Pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers, she pushed down a shudder that worked its way up her spine.

"I had only one friend. His name was Hassun." She strangled down the urge to scream at the sound of his name. "We grew up hating each other; he was from the Earth family, located in the United States, mostly Native American descent. He hated coming all the way into Serbia for the meetings, and our families were in a feud. The Earth and Lightning families have had a long hatred for each other, it was just how it was. But one day, he was practicing Tucking the spirit into the body on a rabbit, and the heart gave out. I decided to help him, and brought the heart back with a teeny shock. We were friends ever since."

"You loved him." It was a statement, and she looked up at Edward. There was no disgust, or pity like she thought there would be. There was only understanding.

"More than I'd ever loved anything. I loved him more than my own mother, Ed. He was everything to me." Astrid fought back the shakes and tried her hardest to keep a straight face.

"Our monthly secret meeting came under attack almost three years ago. The Water family, if you can believe it. Hassun had been visiting, which was strange for an Earth family member. The Water family took it that our two families were conspiring against them. He slaughtered them all. By a stroke of luck, Hassun and I were sparring in the forest. We could hear the screams from a mile away."

"He?" Edward's eyes were intent on her face.

"Antoine DuFort. The man we revived the ten years before. The man we _gave life_ took ours away, the man who is now trying to kill the both of us. Although, I have no clue why they want you dead, to be honest." She shook her head at the change of the subject and continued on. "We ran for two months when he found us at a rundown apartment in New Orleans. I just went to go get supper, and when I came back the apartment was covered in blood from wall to wall. Antoine was…" She stopped, her throat catching. "He was dead; Antoine had made sure of that. Nothing but skin and bones, quite literally. A dried husk. There was no way to revive him, but I was insane with grief then. I had to do something."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she scrubbed it away, but many more chased it down her face. Edward didn't mention it.

"I held him for a few hours before I attempted anything, I think. I just laid down in the inch of blood pooled on the floor and held his corpse. Antoine took him from me, Edward. I wanted to find him and peel his skin back with a spoon. But I couldn't do that. It's impossible, because I gave him life. But I would never side with him."

Edward rested a hand on her knee, but said nothing.

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed, the tears stopping at the thought of a suffering, writhing, Antoine DuFort.

"I called a meeting together in that apartment. I had an entire horde of Necromancers to revive Hassun, even though they all vehemently tried to stop me. But I dead bolted the door and started the ceremony. I became the Chanter. You see, Ed, once you start a revival, you can't stop. You have to finish, or you have to fail.

"Needless to say, things went horribly wrong. His spirit rejected his body, as I knew it would, and I succeeded in losing a Wader into the Hereafter and killing the rest. I got out with a few burns, but that was it. Hassan was still dead. But now I was responsible for the murder of four others."

She sniffed, her body drained of all emotion. "The Authority found me right where I had been in the first place; holding a long-dead Hassan in now rotted blood. I was sentenced to die."

Shrugging, she took a sip of water. From the light look on her face, no one would have suspected anything of her previous state. "Apparently, I was too valuable to lose. I became a Hunter; it's obvious what my job was to do. I did what I needed to do to redeem myself."

The only sound in the room was the whir of the train along the tracks.

"What's changed your mind?" Ed was looking at her with something else in his eyes she couldn't identify.

She smiled. "You. You're my last mission, Edward Elric. I'm going to get you back to your world, anyway I can, because I owe it to you. I'm going to die, either at the hands of Antoine DuFort, or by the Authority. But I want a say in how I die, Edward. I'm going to die finding a way to get you across the Cloth."

Edward's look was horrified. He opened his mouth, but Astrid's look shut him up.

"I'm going to get you to your world, Edward, _because it's the last thing I will do_."


	9. Edward

A.N.: No one would spill their life story to anyone in real life within a day of meeting each other, but given their certain situation and the fact that Edward feels a connection to Astrid I figured I'd get most of their story out and rip it off like a band-aid. The story will pick back up after this chapter, one and all for your reviews! Let me know how I'm doing!

Also, I feel as if I should explain that this is Brotherhood Edward. Shamballa happened, but more or less it was the brothers passing through an array that the Thule Society created and the adventure continued from there, instead of DeadEd going through the gate. And Hoenhiem is alive, goddammit. Like I said, Brotherhood, people. Anyway, onward with the story, I'll shut up now:

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

...

Edward didn't know what to say.

He assumed Astrid understood this, because her eyes weren't pleading with him, they were blank, like they normally were. It was only when she talked about Hassun that her eyes had changed, softening and still raw in their grief to the point that they filled with tears. He knew how she felt, but he didn't know how to tell her that.

"My brother…" He shook his head. He couldn't start there.

"I lost my mother. The sickness didn't take her quickly. It dragged her along like a bird does a worm." He could still feel the sting of her sickness in his nostrils, soaking into the very woodwork of the house to the point that burning it down was almost a relief; relief that he could smell something else. "But she was all we had."

"You and your brother?" Astrid's eyes were watching him, wary of what she said after his outburst before they boarded the train.

Edward nodded. "Me and my brother."

"In my world, we had something similar to your energy. We used it in a scientific aspect, however. We call it alchemy. We channel it using runes and different geometrical patterns, called transmutation circles. The transmutation can only be completed properly if it follows the rule of equivalent exchange, and if the energy we channeled is ignited, and connecting that energy with the circle itself."

He demonstrated, putting his hands together as if he were praying. "I've noticed that you use your bodies more or less as a transmutation circle in this world. I am familiar with the concept, as this is how I was able to perform alchemy without an array."

"How could you do that if no one else could?" She looked genuinely interested, her chin in her hand and her eyes intent on him.

Edward sucked in his breath. "I tried to bring my mother back."

Her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline was her only sign of shock. "Just you?"

"My brother and I. He lost his body to…our version of the Afterworld."

"It's called the Hereafter. Why would you attempt a resurrection with only two people?"

Ed shrugged. "I believed we had enough in exchange. I was a fool."

"I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"Your brother. And your mother."

"I've come to terms with the death of my mother. I was able to affix my brother's soul to a suit of armor."

Astrid shook her head. "It defies logic. You alone found his soul, grabbed his soul, brought it back, and affixed it to a worldly body with no consequences?"

He smiled crookedly at her, "Not really," then shook his automail arm at her, the gears jangling around. "And besides, we have different rules that apply to how we raise the dead; that being said, it can't be done in our world."

She stared at him for a while, and then nodded. "I don't understand how you could do all of those things by yourself, but I believe you."

"My brother brought me to a family friend's house where I recovered and was equipped with automail."

"That's what that's called? Automail? Is it rare in your world?"

"Not at all. It's actually quite common; many people from the war lost limbs and needed replacements."

"War?"

She saw Ed swallow, his thick neck rumbling as he sighed. "The Ishvalan war. I joined the military after I recovered from my…accident. I was the youngest State Alchemist in history, you know." His chest puffed out in pride and Astrid chuckled. "The war had begun long before I joined, and was started on false pretenses. An…enemy of the state disguised itself as a child and was shot in order to cut the tension between Amestris and Ishval. Let's just say it was explosive; no pun intended."

"So lots of people lost limbs?"

Edward frowned disapprovingly at her. "And lives. That seems a bit more important."

"So your people could push out hundreds, if not thousands of these limbs?"

He rolled his eyes at her.

She shook her head again, dumbfounded, and muttered something under her breath about money.

"Where is your brother?"

Edward's face suddenly became cold again. He rubbed his finger down the side of his nose, and then smiled. "I imagine he's probably enlisted the entire military on a search mission for me."

"He's still managed to keep his soul in the armor?" She looked puzzled.

Edward snapped out of his musings and shook his head. "No. A few years before I was dropped here I gave up the ability to perform alchemy in return for his body. I also gained my arm back, but for some reason I lost it when I came back here."

Astrid thought for a moment, her finger twirling a curled lock of dark hair.

"I think that's explainable. The Cloth would allow you to pass through a tear again, but only in the body you had when you passed through the first time. But it would mean you had been here before."

Edward frowned. "I have. About seventy years ago, in your time."

She leaned back in shock, and Ed could practically see her mind working. "That's why you thought I was a Nazi?"

Edward chuckled. "Yeah." He rubbed his nose. "They thought my world was heaven. Literally. I was able to stop them with the help of my brother and my father, and we made it back to our world safely enough. One of the adventures Alphonse and I went on after we had our bodies returned to us." He laughed at the irony.

"Well, I guess that's a good sign, though."

"Sorry?" Ed raised an eyebrow.

"If seventy years here is only about two or three in your world, then logically you've only been gone for a few days."

Edward looked at her for a while, his eyes skipping over her face as he thought of the possibility of it. These two years that he had spent in this world had been the longest of his life, but when he'd get back home he'd be returning after a three-day field trip, having aged two and a half years.

"Shit."

Astrid nodded in agreement. "What a paradox."

"It is that." Edward scrubbed his hands through his long hair, getting his fingers tangled almost immediately.

"I know someone who could help, I think. Do you want me to cut that?"

He looked up, frowning. "You know someone who can help me cut my hair?"

"No, stupid. I know someone who can help explain how you got here and how to get you back. It shouldn't be too hard to find him if we know where to look."

He smiled, his eyes tired, before putting his arms around her and pressing her to him without thinking. "Thank you, Astrid."

He pulled away from her a little and looked her in her eyes. "You won't die helping me, though. Don't get too comfortable with that idea."

She looked back at him, his face so close to hers she could smell the soap on his skin. In a moment of weakness, she reached up, touching her hands to his face, tracing his scar on his forehead with her fingers and the cleft in his chin with the other.

"It won't be difficult for me to die for you, Edward."

His golden eyes burned in the light of the sunrise, seeming to drink in her features. She looked away, unable to bear the image that was presented and the feelings that came along with it.

"We've had quite similar backgrounds, as it would seem, but you came out to be the better of us. You did what I couldn't; move on."

She pulled back, ripping her eyes and her hands away from him. She sat back on the bed again and gave her best fake smile.

"Besides, no one would miss me. It's what I dream of, to be honest." Images of shiny, blue-black hair and dark, smiling eyes flashed through her mind, but she pushed them back. "…it's all I could ever want. You would be doing me a favor, Edward Elric."

He sat down on the chair across the room and he crossed his arms across his chest. He sat like that for a while, his frown turning darker and darker as the reality of what she was saying hit him.

"Equivalent exchange. You bitch."

The false happiness fell from her face, and she shut down, her eyes going blank again.

"By helping me, I'd help you kill yourself in a fashion that would get you into limbo with Hassun."

Her eyes were on the sheets that she was wringing in her hands. "What, Ed? Did you really expect me to help you without a cost?"

He shook his head. "No. But this wasn't the cost I was thinking of."

"It's even."

His head swung around, his eyes fiery and violent, his teeth clenched. "It isn't!" He turned back toward the window, his fist hitting the wall, causing everything to shake, the sound of the train and the dozens of miniature bottles of aftershave and shampoo hit the floor.

He stood like that for a while, his fist clenched and rested against the wall.

He turned around, an obviously false smile on his face; it looked more like he was baring his teeth at her. "I'm going to change your mind before I leave. You're going to live."

"Why do you care, Edward?" She sounded tired; worn out. She sounded like his father, like she was hundreds of years old.

He thought about this for a long time, his mind wandering as he paced back and forth.

"Because, Astrid, _this _will be the last thing _I _will do in this world." He walked toward the bathroom, kicking the accoutrements on the floor to clear a path. "And, Astrid," he turned his head back towards her, "when I set my mind to something, it gets done. No matter if you like it or not."


	10. Haircuts and Surprise Visits

A.N.: Thank you for the reviews! To any new readers I may have, welcome! And I make a Holy Grail joke in here, because that just seems like it would be Astrid's favorite movie.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA omg

…

Astrid made the bed while Edward showered, the steam from the hot water rolling out from under the flimsy accordion door. She thought she had found her way out, with him. All she knew about Shifting from one world the next was that someone had to leave this world for another to get to the next. Equivalent exchange. Of course, she had no clue how to begin a Shifting ritual, and the only person who probably knew how to do it wasn't on good terms with her. But, it was her last choice. _Their _last choice. She supposed she was glad they were going to England.

She paced around the room for a few minutes, her toes rubbed raw from the carpet. Finally, she opened the accordion door quietly and sat down on the tile floor. He had a nice bottom, even though she only saw a very blurry version of it.

"I don't actually know if the process will kill me."

Edward shrieked and slipped, hitting his hip on the shower floor with a slick _smack_. "Goddamnit, Astrid, what the hell is wrong with you? Can a man not get privacy?"

She ignored him and turned her gaze away from his bottom, twisting her rings this way and that. "The man we're going to see is named Teddy Two-Fingers. Or, at least, that's the only name I call him, because he hates it. He's part of the lightning family. He has anger issues," the thought of his stub of a hand came to her mind, "and basically just an asshole. I'll deal with him, but we're going to need to work on your temper, you know."

"Ex-excuse me?"

Astrid shrugged, and Ed poked his head out of the shower, hiding his most private parts with his hands, his face beet-red and furious. "I have a feeling you can learn how to wield; I can feel the energy inside of you. What element, I have no clue. But we'll have to learn before you meet Teddy, because he'll probably want to duel you. And we can't have you burning off your other arm if you're angry during it."

"_Duel? _Are we in Xerxesian times, or something?"

She nodded her head and chose to ignore the reference to a time she had never heard of. "Yes, duel. Although there's no need to carry on the pretense that we are lovers, he will come to that conclusion, story or no."

"I still don't understand why he would want to duel me." He warily turned his back towards her and continued to wash his hair. "And we're _not _lovers."

She bit her lip at the view he gave her of his backside, wanting to sink her teeth into the dimples on either side. "You're right, but he has a right to duel you anyway. He's my husband."

Edward fell again, but broke his fall with the handicapped bar in the shower, his heels slipping and squeaking as he tried to regain his footing. "What the fuck?!"

She shrugged. "We're not married by citizen law, only by family rites and rituals. He's terribly ugly. When I told him so, he got angry and tried to blow my head off, so I left." She traced the knotted scar from her temple to her hairline, cringing internally at the memory of a Drip cascading down her face. "Alas, he probably thinks I've taken up a lover or six. Not to say his conclusions aren't unfounded, but he could hardly blame me."

She stood up as Edward turned the water off, and he poked his head out again, a stern look on his face.

"Why didn't you tell me you were married?"

Astrid shrugged again, a nonchalant look on her face. "What, you're telling me you don't have a girl back at home?" His red face and downcast look told her as much. "Besides, he's not something I enjoy talking about."

He locked eyes with her, causing a shiver to go down her spine, and he thrust his hand toward her, palm up. She tossed a towel to it, frowning at him. Only when he had it tied firmly around his hips did he step out. She had the decency to turn from him, but not before getting a view of him in his full glory.

_His body is even more glorious wet_, she thought, leaning on the sink in order to see herself in the mirror. She looked like shit. Her nose was swollen and purple, unrecognizable from the fair, slim one that normally sat there. Her eyes were ringed in dark circles and her skin was so pale that she looked like death. No wonder he didn't look twice at her.

"You know, I'm normally good looking." She turned her head this way and that, but didn't really see much of her normal self in the mirror. She felt compelled to tell him this.

Edward was wringing his hair out in another towel, and smirked. "I don't believe you."

"It's true. I had over ten marriage proposals by the time I turned fifteen. Of course, that was very many years ago and I had a few less scars than I do now."

"That's…disturbing."

She shrugged, and tried to pull her hair up. That made it worse. Five angry red welts stood out on her skin; a memory of this morning. Edward watched her and his eyes became half-lidded and guilt ridden. She quickly put her hair down and ran her fingers through it. She turned towards him.

"Do you have scissors?" She held her hand out.

Edward looked at her up and down, his eyes clinging to hers as he strode towards her, looking like he was going to do many unmentionable things to her. She froze for a moment and then suddenly melted, ready for him to do whatever he pleased. She sank against the counter, her feet sliding apart and her eyes shutting.

Then he reached for the drawer in the cabinet she was leaning on and slid it open. She shook herself. _Dammit. _He pulled out a small pair of sewing scissors and set it in her outstretched hand.

"Will these do?"

She frowned, her mojo killed, and looked at the huge amount of wet, golden hair that slid down his shoulders and to the middle of his back. "Why the hell would you let your hair get this long?"

Ed shrugged, as Astrid motioned that he sit on the toilet lid. "I just never had a chance to cut it."

"It's kind of a shame, actually." For the first time since she met him, she was able to run her fingers from his scalp down to the ends. "Maybe I can fashion a wig for myself."

Edward gave her a glare over his shoulder.

Astrid smiled back at him and gathered the mass in a tail at the back of his head. "You ready?"

He sighed and nodded.

It was a task to get the small scissors to saw through the ponytail, but a few minutes of grumbled curses and moans of pain from Edward, the hair fell into her hand, finally free from his head. She was shocked at the weight of the hair itself; she had a new respect for that thick, corded neck of Edward's. She tossed the damp mass of hair into the bin, and looked back to him. She began to pick up random pieces and snipping, no particular style in mind. She left the top half longer than the sides because she couldn't be bothered with it, and even though it was a bit scruffy, she had to admit, it didn't look half bad.

Ed ran his hands through his hair in amazement. He stood up and walked to the mirror. Half-smiling at his reflection, he ran his hands over both of his ears. "I haven't seen my ears in almost twenty years."

She came up behind him and ran her hand across his shoulders, brushing the stray hairs off of his back. He was almost unrecognizable. She met his eyes in the mirror, and she smiled, looking away. She was pissed off at herself for some stupid reason. She hated that she took away one of his most beautiful features, and although she doubted he could ever look normal, he could pass by if no one was looking too hard.

Ed seemed to notice the look on her face. He seemed to notice too much about her for her liking. "What's wrong? Did you miss a piece?"

She shook her head, her hand still on the warm skin of his back. He had the smoothest skin she had ever seen on a man, aside from the abrupt end of his right shoulder in scars and metal. Images of his back alone would haunt her dreams until she left this world, without a doubt, not to mention those eyes.

"You've got a look on your face." He said it low in his throat.

She didn't look up or move her hand. "What kind of look?"

"That look when you're thinking of something you don't want to."

"You don't know that." If only he knew how right he was. "I'll let you get dressed."

"I'm shocked."

She wrinkled her nose at him and walked out, shutting the door behind her.

She had been about to flip the bed back up into the wall when she heard a knock at the door. Not giving it much though, she threw the door open. It was a woman, the same one who had given them their breakfast earlier.

"Hello. Do you need anything?" Her smile was wide and plastic, her eyes dull and blank.

"No, thanks." Astrid went to close the door, but the woman's foot caught the door.

"Are you sure?" Her smile never faltered.

Astrid looked down at the woman's foot, and felt a calm pass over her. She charged her hand up. "Please come in."

She barely had time to close the door behind her when the woman's arm became completely engulfed in ice that tapered to a deadly point, about a foot thick and long, her smile still present. Astrid jumped up onto the bedside table, lightening crackling from her hands and her mouth. The other woman's perfectly coiffured hair began to raise one strand at a time at the electricity in the room.

"Monsieur DuFort will applaud my creativity when he sees the things I will do to your corpse." Her voice was sweet and calm, and her smile was wider than it was before. Astrid was surprised it didn't break.

"That's a pathetic cry for attention." Sparks flew from her mouth along with the words and sizzled when they hit the carpet. The words themselves sounded as if she were talking through a fan, her voice distorted from the electricity that buzzed through her.

The other woman's face fell into a mask of calm disdain before she rushed towards her. Her ice-scythe cut through the air towards Astrid, and she flipped off of the table, over her head and landing behind her, ducking just fast enough that she dodged her other hand coming behind her. She leapt to the other side of the tiny room, poised on her toes.

Astrid smiled at the woman, fighting to keep her anger at bay as she felt a thin slice of pain across her arm.

"Does he know where we are?"

"He thought you were going to Moscow. I thought differently and took a different train. Oh, how surprised he will be when he sees me toting your head on a pike."

Astrid smiled wider, her eyes crazed. "I'm afraid your body won't be recognizable after the amount of electricity I'm about to pump in it."

The woman opened her mouth to retort, but was stopped short by a shock to the arms. Both of her arms fell uselessly at her side, and she began to get the Drips. The pure, blue energy fell from her dead fingertips, and her face was twisted into a horrific frown. She arched her leg in a kick, but Astrid shocked the muscles and nerves in that one too. She fell down, her face pressed on the floor.

"Antoine will find you, Hunter."

Astrid shrugged. "I imagine he will. But someone will find him, too." She smiled at her one last time before taking the woman's cold head in her hands. The woman only had a chance to snarl in confusion before Astrid crushed her lips to the woman's.

Almost immediately, she begun to flail, her limbs moving uncontrollably as black smoke billowed from her ears and her nose. The rancid smoke filled the room, rushing out of the window and creating a black line of smoke outside. Blood flowed from her eyes sockets, and Astrid pulled away. The charred body fell from her grasp, and she smirked at her handiwork.

Astrid was still reigning in her lightning when Ed walked out of the bathroom.

"Thanks Astrid, this actually looks pretty good. Do I smell steak? Great, I'm starv—Holy fucking…what the hell happened out here?"

Astrid turned to him, her energy draining slowly back into herself. "The hostess was a spy. Thankfully, she wasn't following orders in taking this train. No one knows we're going to be in London."

Ed's mouth moved up and down soundlessly as he looked from a blue, glowing Astrid to the burnt corpse.

"Oh…kay." Edward adjusted his shirt and watched as Astrid begun to lift the body.

She grunted as she tried to lift the woman. She was heavier than she thought. Looking back at Edward, she gave a sigh. "Are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me?"

Ed rushed over, picking the woman up under her crispy shoulders and helping Astrid lay her on the bed. Astrid tucked her in to the sheets and pressed the button on the side of the bed. It struggled to fold up into the wall with the weight of the woman, but after a third try, it finally closed with a resounding _click_.

"Sorry," she said, turning away from Edward to shut the little window.

"About what?" He began to scrub at the carpet, then sighed at the futility of it and tossed a towel over the burn marks.

Astrid gestured to the room and to the now-hidden bed. "Everything."

Ed shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Nothing I haven't seen before. You're hurt."

She lifted her forearm to inspect it, but a small line with a dribble of blood coming from it was all that was there to see. "Just a flesh wound."

Ed nodded, not getting her joke. She sighed.

Astrid dusted the black soot off of her pants and smiled at Ed. "So, you've been to England?"

To her surprise, Ed nodded. "I landed there my first time on this world."

"I only know where to find Teddy, so maybe you could give me the three hour tour?"

Edward folded his arms and looked at her disapprovingly. "It would be impossible to show you London in just three hours."

"Oh, my God, Edward, it's a fucking saying. Do you always take everything so seriously?"

"Yes."

Astrid sighed in exasperation and sat on the cushy chair that had replaced the bed. She leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.

"Tell me when we get to London."


	11. Stares and Tumbles in Snow

A.N.: This entire chapter was written with _Title Track _by Death Cab for Cutie in the background on repeat, so I guess if you listen to music while you read, that should be the song you listen to when you read this chapter. Thanks for your reviews, and your love! I love love. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

…

Astrid didn't sleep. The same could not be said for Edward, however. He was snoring softly in the cheap metal chair that was bolted to the floor, and she didn't doubt that he could sleep anywhere he chose to. She watched him through half-closed eyes, the rhythmic swaying of the train and the whir of the passing landscape relaxed her, but not enough to let her fall asleep. The smell of charred flesh still hung in the air, but it dissipated somewhat with the window cracked open slightly. They'd find the body the minute the cleaning crew came in, but this didn't bother her. As far as the citizen government was concerned, Astrid Ivanovic did not exist. She was certain Edward Elric didn't, either. The only thing the people on the train could give the authorities was a description of a man with extremely long, blond hair of average height and a tall woman with black hair and a broken nose, but they both had been sure to avoid security cameras. The broken nose wouldn't last and she could always dye her hair. Edward would always look that devastatingly attractive, though. She felt like someone punched her in the gut whenever he looked her right in the eyes. She thought that whoever was waiting for him at home must be a very beautiful and very lucky girl, the two things Astrid wasn't.

She didn't notice that his eyes had opened and he was staring at her, staring at him. "We should probably jump off soon." His voice was low and scratchy; his morning voice. "There's a stop coming up on this rail, if it's following the same route it always has. The train will be forced to slow down. We'll hit the ground hard but we should be okay."

She met his eyes and just stared at him. "You landed in London on your first trip here?"

Ed started at the change in topic, but nodded.

"Whose place did you take?"

Ed shifted in his seat, leaning his head back on the metal bar on the chair and closing his eyes again. "I try not to think about it."

"He was English, I take it."

"Yes." His tone was dead, not wanting to go on with that topic.

"How'd you end up in Germany?"

Ed's brows came together and a crease formed in the middle of them. "My father and brother and I didn't understand the English language our first time here; we were confronted with a member of the would-be Gestapo who shook our hands and congratulated us on being German, more or less. My father knew his way around the area. We headed to Munich right before the Putsch on his word. There, we discovered how we came to be here and how they yearned to understand alchemy for means of reaching their 'Shamballa', which was really just our world, as I've said. We – or should I say, my brother and father – stopped them." He rubbed his hands together. "I had forfeited my alchemy just before then."

"Oh."

Ed looked at her blankly before standing up. "Help me break this window."

She stood, walking towards him.

He cringed at the sight of her, reached out, and rubbed her lips with his thumb. The strangest sensation of familiarity surged through her, causing a burn low in her stomach that had nothing to do with her energy. He wiped his hand vigorously on his pants. "Why do you have burnt people-bits on your mouth?"

She used the sleeve of her jacket to rub her mouth some more. "It was the quickest way to incapacitate her."

"You mean kill her?" She nodded. "Why?"

"Our energy is focused in a part of the brain, therefore, in the head. It's where energy is most potent." She pointed to the middle of her forehead. "Our third-eye, if you will. Direct contact with the head is the best way to focus pure energy onto the target. The only workable, fully controllable orifice on the head is the mouth, so…"

Ed nodded, grimacing at the mental image. "Quite literally, the kiss of death."

"Yep." She sniffed, wiping her mouth again.

"How can you speak German so well?" The change in topic made Astrid's head spin.

Astrid shrugged. "I know many languages '_so well_': German, English, Spanish, Italian, Swedish, Russian, Chinese, and of course, Serbian. It comes in handy when I have jobs in other countries. I can be anyone I want to be."

"Except Chinese." He grinned.

"You aren't funny." She frowned.

"I'm hilarious."

She rolled her eyes dramatically before moving over towards the window. She gazed outside and stopped, confusion taking over. "Edward…we aren't in France."

"Nope."

"Edward, we are jumping off of a train and we're not in France."

"That's correct."

She gasped as the bare trees gave way to huge, snow-covered, rolling landscapes and a telltale windmill off in the distance.

"Edward, we are in Belgium."

"Perceptive."

"What the hell are you thinking?" She shrieked, turned around and gave him her best glare.

He rolled his eyes and sat back down on his little metal chair. "We're catching the ferry from Ostend to Ramsgate."

"_We have to walk to the ferry?" _ She stomped her foot like an obstinate child.

"Yes."

"In three feet of snow, Edward? _In three feet of snow?_"

"Get over it. You don't know how many Mancers Antoine sent after us. What if another one figured we were going to London, too?" He looked at her seriously, and her face fell.

"Okay, fine."

He stood and walked back towards the window. Astrid sighed and zipped her coat up. "We better do it now before the train speeds up again."

"Okay, Edward, I'm going to heat up the glass, making it soft, and you're going to —"

Edward's metal hand bashed through the window before she could finish her sentence, and she sighed. He grabbed her by the back of her jacket as he poised himself on the outside of the train, the wind whipping his new, short hair violently. She wasn't able to scream as her feet dangled a few inches away from the ground, and she gulped down the bile that threatened to rise in her throat.

"One," he shouted over the roar of the wind and the train, "two…"

Without warning, he let go, and she fell. The cold stung her like a slap as she hit the snow. It wasn't powdery like she was expecting; it was icy and freezing and everything she had ever hated in weather conditions. She rolled, sometimes head over heels, the sky turning into ground and back into sky before she could focus her vision. Adjusting her body so she was on her back, feet first, she slid down the incline so quickly that the dark trees on other side of her were a blurry line. She came to a violent halt as she straddled a small, bare tree near the bottom of the ravine, her pelvis taking a swift hard jar and knocking the wind out of her. She lay on her back in the hard-packed snow, gasping, and staring up into the gray sky. That bastard. Extricating her legs from round the cold hard bark, she held her other half tenderly and turned on her side in pain. She was no man, but at that moment, she sympathized with them.

It felt like hours that she sat there in agony before a shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see a familiar blonde asshole. His head was in front of the gray sun, but she figured he was grinning.

"I think you broke it," she choked out, still clutching her nether-bit and trying not to cry.

"I'm not checking to make sure," he said, trying to sound surly, but she knew even without looking that his face was red. He grabbed her from under the arms and hefted her up onto her feet. Her legs vibrated from the adrenaline, and she promptly turned her head and puked whatever she had eaten that day.

"Gah, fuck." Edward grabbed a handful of her hair, his warm hand and his cold one brushing her neck and sending warm sensations through her entire being. Of course, the arousal was short lived, as she convulsed again. She didn't realize her stomach was so large. A few minutes of hacking up nothing, and she stood, wiping her mouth vigorously with her sleeve and shaking herself.

Edward went to pull his hands from her hair, but his automail one was affixed firmly to her scalp. He cursed again and tried to remove the small hairs from his metal joints and bolts.

"Look, wrap it this way—ow, fuck!" She tried to help, moving around pieces in vain.

Finally, he yanked his hand free, only succeeding in ripping out a few tender pieces.

"Edward?" She rubbed her scalp.

He sighed, taking little hairs out of his joints. "What?"

"These two days are on my top three _Worst Days of My Life _list."

"Same." He gave up on the hairs and put his hands on his slim hips. "It's a four, maybe five hour hike to Charleroi. Then, if we're lucky, a two hour car ride to Ostend. We better go now if we don't want to lose daylight."

Astrid stared at him, her mouth agape and her eyes furious. "Wh-wha-"

He walked away, hands in his pockets, and his jacket close around his now-bare neck.

Astrid had no choice but to wobble uncomfortably behind him, her boots kicking the snow and her brain cursing the very existence of Edward Elric.


	12. Asses and Asses in Cars

A.N.: These past two chapters have been short! Sorry, they will get longer once they get to London. Consider these filler. (Ew.)

Disclaimer: Nope. I still don't own anything.

…..

"Edward," Astrid hissed at him, watching the annoyingly attractive waitress walk off with their orders for anything hot on the menu. He watched her go, a smug smile on his own annoyingly attractive face. "Edward, for fucks sake, could you make it less obvious. I can practically see the pillar of yearning in your pants."

Ed turned back to her, too used to her sexual references to be embarrassed, now. "What the hell's your problem?" He took a sip of his black coffee, smiled, and relaxed back in his chair.

"What's my problem?" She was very quiet and falsely sweet in her rage. "What's my _problem?_" She sucked in air, ready to blow. "My _problem, _my dear Edward, is that you said we were taking the train to Moscow. Then, you trick me into taking the train to London. Instead of being in either Moscow or London, I just spent the last six hours hiking through fucking _Belgium _in three feet of snow, in the middle of December with a sore friend," she pointed down, "and a broken, cold nose. So that, Edward, is my goddamn problem. Your deceitful ways, Edward, is my goddamn, mother fucking problem." She had gone from whispering to yelling, and caused everyone in the restaurant to grow quiet and turn towards them.

Edward sunk down in his chair and glared at her. "Will you shut up? What happened to keeping a low profile?"

"Eating in a goddamn restaurant in the middle of the city is the last thing you do when keeping a low profile, you bastard, maybe you should take notes!" She put her face in the steam her hot chocolate gave off, the warm, sweet smell of Belgium chocolate almost enough to calm her raging anger.

"Look, I never said we were taking the train to London. I said we were _going _to London. Never did I specify the method of our transportation."

"I hate your guts, Edward Elric." Her words trailed off into an exhausted sigh.

"Likewise, Astrid Ivanovic." He took a long sip of his coffee, and the waitress came back around, their food balanced on the tray in her hand.

….

Edward was full and the happiest he had been in the past two days. He had a spring in his step; especially after the looks that cute waitress had given him. She had slipped him her phone number in the check, and he had given her his most smoldering smile. This haircut had certainly done him good. He couldn't recognize himself without long hair. He wasn't sad to let it go, and this surprised him. He wasn't sure why he was so adamant in growing it in the first place; his head felt pounds lighter. He let himself soak in his happiness, even in the midst of Astrid's gloomy cloud that hung around her. He figured he'd need it before her _husband _decided he wanted to kill him, which would probably be sometime soon. However, even in the face of inevitable conflict, Edward was a little excited to see if he could learn this new power. He missed alchemy terribly; it was as if a chunk had been ripped out of him. With Alphonse, that emptiness was filled, but he knew within the first six months of his time back on this world that the emptiness would creep back into his life, those black tendrils closing in around his mind.

He hated to admit it, but Astrid had been the one bright spot in his life here, even if she was insane and so sexually driven that he doubted she could function without it. They were alike in only one way, and that was the connection of committing the greatest sin and coming out scathed for it, and that killed him. He wondered what she would have been like if she hadn't dealt with death at such a young age and been subjected to it for the rest of her life. He imagined they could have been friends.

He chuckled to himself at what he had just thought. No, they could never be friends. The farthest they would ever go would be that intense sexual tension and fiery arguments that would solve nothing. That would be all he would allow. He looked over at her, her little black cloud of childish anger still hung around her. Her pale gray eyes were on the ground, her long black lashes brushing her pale cheeks in a way that almost made her pretty. Of course, then he saw how the inner corners of her eyes were turning a blue color from her broken nose and the image was shattered. Although her nose was swollen, he didn't think he had done permanent damage. It wasn't at a strange angle.

"How's your nose feeling?"

She glared at him. "Terrible, thank you for asking. You never did tell me how I got this, either."

Ed shrugged. "Must have happened when you fell after the rock hit you in the chest."

"Yeah, speaking of chest, you realize that you threw me off of a moving train with a broken rib, right?"

Ed had forgotten. He looked at her, worried. "You feel alright, though? You didn't hurt it?"

She sighed. "No, everything's fine. Well, except for my nose and the place where the sun doesn't shine. Quit looking at me like that." Folded her arms over her chest, she walked faster ahead of him. This brought to light the fact that her black leather pants, although impractical for cold weather, molded her so perfectly that he couldn't help but look. It wasn't a bad sight; in fact, it was quite the opposite. It might have been the nicest he'd seen, if he had known any other woman who would wear those blasted pants. He shook his head and looked away. Winry, Winry, Winry…

He didn't think about her as much as he should have been. He was going to marry her, after all, and he shouldn't be thinking about anyone _but _her.

"Astrid, here."

"Where are we?" She looked around, her eyes never stopping on one landmark.

"Gosselies. We're at Charleroi Airport."

Her eyes got very wide and she turned towards him. "If we are flying somewhere, I will finish the job and kill you now."

He put his hands up in surrender. "No, no. We need a car to get to Ostend, stupid." He looked around the nearly empty street and then hopped the cement divider. "Find a car with a lot of snow on it."

"Why?" She was whispering, trying her best to look normal.

"It means it's been here for a while. Also means they won't be back for a while; the airport's been closed because of the weather. Means the car won't be reported stolen until we're already in London."

Astrid could have slapped herself.

There was a car near the end of the lot nearly submerged in snow. It had to have been twenty years old, so there wouldn't be an alarm. She nudged him, and he nodded. She jimmied the driver's seat door open and slid in. Edward slid into the passenger seat, leaning across her lap to pry open the cover under the steering wheel.

"You look like you've done this before, Edward Elric. I will admit that I'm aroused at your uncanny knowledge of the act of grand theft auto." She applied electricity to the wires and the car started without a problem.

He rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't I drive?"

She looked at him like he was an idiot. "No offense, Edward, but you probably haven't driven a car in this world since the nineteen-thirties. I may have a bit more experience in this field." She put the car in reverse, then proceeded to ram into the car parked behind her. The alarm of the other car was shrill in the air, and Astrid groaned.

He gave her a look, and she punched him in the arm. She sped off, mindful of the ice, and headed for the E40. She turned the heat up and smiled as Ed almost immediately fell asleep, his head on the center console, his soft, warm hair against her hand. Turning the radio on to some nondescript, relaxing music, she drove on, ecstatic about being in control of something for the first time in years –even if it was just a car—and actually _enjoyed_ the sight of soft snowflakes zipping past the windshield.

Astrid was the happiest she'd been in days, right in that moment, and she soaked it in. She knew that she'd need it.


	13. Car Rides and a Proposition

A.N.: Guys. Guys. My computer exploded. Luckily, I got a lot of some upcoming chapters written. :D Now the arduous process of writing up to them. ;.; This is a tiny morsel to chew on while I type up some more!

….

The sun set early that day; the dull yellow twinkle of car lights speeding past Astrid so early in the evening that she thought she must have been going mad. Of course, she had entertained that thought often on this little road trip. She had found her hand inexplicably running through Edward's hair, enjoying the feel of its warm softness so much that she didn't stop, even when she'd noticed what she was doing. Ed, of course, was none the wiser snoring softly in his seat.

Astrid was, for lack of a better phrase, fucking tired. Everything hurt; those few hours squeezed on the cot in the train did nothing to alleviate that, and although the soft snow pelting against the car rhythmically did relax her, she couldn't get comfortable. She couldn't decide if it was because of the rigid, cracked leather seats in the car, her many wounds, or the impending disaster that was soon upon her. Eventually, somewhere around the forty-five minute mark, she decided it was her body causing the problem. Her nose was still giving her a migraine, her singed fingertips were starting to bubble up from the burns, and her side was a dull ache that caused every brake and acceleration in the journey to send sharp pains through her chest. Not to mention, her most favorite part of her body was aching, and not in a good way. In order to keep sane and in as little pain as possible, she'd twist this way and that, spend a few minutes rolling an oblivious Edward's hair between her fingers, and about two instances of singing along with songs she knew. By the time she reached the outskirts of Ostend, she was about to explode.

"Edward?"

His golden eyes flew open, glazed over with sleep. "Wha—"

"I know we're not friendly, Edward, and I know I tried to kill you, but I need to know something."

He yawned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. "What?"

"You won't—I mean," She cleared her throat, and was silent.

He turned slightly in his seat, looking at her, his attention on her fully. The only sound in the car just then was the light smattering of snow on glass and the whir of the car. "You woke me? Make it good."

She looked over at him. "I don't know you very well, Edward. Well, I know our situations, but I don't know who you really are, what you hate, who loves you, who you love. I don't know your favorite color." She was somehow more disturbed by the latter.

Edward nodded. "Yeah. I'm hoping it stays that way. Why?"

Her eyes began to plead silently with him. "When we test you to see if you can wield, and when we see if I can get you back over—" She cleared her throat again, turning back to the road.

"…yes?"

"I need you to promise me you won't try to save me." Her voice was dead pan, and her eyes empty.

Edward was silent for a moment. Astrid could feel his eyes boring holes into her head, burning like Drip where they landed. She continued,

"Although I have no idea of how to complete this ritual, I am sure you will be alert for all of it. You will have to be. And, if I am the price to pay for your passage over, then I will die. You will watch me die. I'm asking you to not do anything about it."

He was silent still, his gaze still on her. "Okay." The words were final, and they rang in the car like a coin in a can.

"No, Edward. I mean it." She looked over at him again, her eyes knowing. "As I said, Edward, I don't know you. But something about you tells me that you aren't the kind of man to let a woman die if he had any control of it."

"You have killed people, Astrid."

She nodded.

"You want to die."

She felt the back of her eyes sting, but she nodded.

He rested his head back, finally tearing his eyes away from her. "I have killed before, too, Astrid. I've killed people who have killed others." He sank back in his seat as much as his wide body would allow. "But I understand you, even if only a little. If I can't get you to embrace life before the time comes, then I will accept that I have done all I can. If you truly, honestly want to die, who am I to take that away from you?"

Her breath came out in a rush, deflating her.

He was quiet, his chin on his fist and looking outside.

She nodded once more, her hands white as they gripped the steering wheel. "We have…we have a very strange relationship, Edward."

"I have to agree to that." His voice was raw.

"I will be honest when I say that I've wanted to jump you since the first time I saw your picture. Of course, meeting you in person was a bit shocking, and the urge is not so strong now," she lied, "but it is still there, and that is a problem."

Edward's laugh was short and sarcastic.

"So, Edward, I have a proposition." She sniffed, suddenly quite conscious about the tense atmosphere of the car.

"Anything that comes out of your filthy mouth won't have the pleasure of entering my ears." His mouth was set in a firm line.

"Yes, pleasure, exactly where I was going with this. Now, I don't know if you've ever had sex, but—"

"Of—of course I have!"

Astrid was watching the road, but by the choked sound of his voice she could almost see his red face.

"I say we simply get it out of our system. Think of it as relieving pressure." She shrugged.

Edward was quiet, but she didn't want to fill the silence. The quiet stretched, further than she had expected it to. She counted three city blocks before he said something.

"Is that all you think of that as? _Relieving pressure?_" His voice was very serious, and she became wary.

"Well, no. I mean, it serves many other purposes, I suppose-"

"I don't love you, Astrid."

This caught her by surprise, but the wrath behind his words told her not to make fun.

"I don't love you either, Edward." She stiffened, suddenly uncomfortable where the conversation was going.

"I will _never _love you, Astrid."

She raised an eyebrow. "Likewise, Edward."

It became quiet again. She didn't like the quiet.

"No. My answer is no, to your stupid goddamned proposition, Astrid."

She fell quiet, inexplicably disappointed. She had expected him to grab at the bait like fish to a lure; all the other men did. Surely she had felt some sort of vibe from him? Something akin to attraction, certainly? She couldn't have mistaken those long looks he gave her. She knew she wasn't any great beauty, but she was nice to look at, or so she thought.

She pulled into an empty spot on the side of the road, turning the car off. She left the keys in when she climbed out, slamming the door behind her. That feeling of rejection was new to her. It was painful, more painful than she cared to admit.

The sound of the other door slamming brought her back to the present. She ignored him, and walked toward the water, her eyes peeled for the ferry.

"Blue." His voice was so low, she almost didn't hear him.

She turned her head, her eyes meeting his.

"My favorite color is blue."


	14. In Which There's a New Pawn in the Game

A.N: Sorry for the serious delays, everyone. I've had the worst case of trying to get all of my material written back out. :( It is summer, though, and I'll be going on holiday for a few weeks, so until then…this and the next chapter should hold you over. Leave a review if you love it! Introducing a new character, too!

...

It was one of those days again.

The rain shouldn't have even been called rain; it fell in a soft mist that cast a halo around everything in front of the sunrise and made the air so thick that you got a mouthful of water with every breath, kind of like drowning. The thought of drowning paralyzed the girl for an instant, stopping her in mid-stride and causing the man behind her to collide somewhat violently into her back. He threw a few uncomplimentary words at her and continued on his way, shoving through the crowd as he went.

Her foot shook before she put it in front of her other one.

The rain was swirled about the city, painting false sparkles onto the cold metal of the buildings. She pulled the collar of her coat down, letting the cold pinpricks of moisture shock the back of her neck, like dozens of small needles. At the thought of needles in the back of her neck, she closed her eyes and waited for the chill up her spine to subside; she was sure it had nothing to do with the rain.

It was most definitely one of those days again.

It was one of those days where visions of the past struck her with a force that she thought had finally weakened, but instead came back with a vengeance that threatened normalcy. She shuffled under a building awning where she could stop without causing a traffic jam. Her hand jabbed into her purse, feeling for the small cylindrical container.

She pulled out an orange pill case, smiling at it as though it were an old friend. Popping off the white child-proof cap with urgency she didn't realize she possessed, her thumb-nail broke with a sickening _crack_. Blood spilled out of her finger and onto the ground, swirling down the sidewalk and into a puddle. At the sight of the blood in the water, she began to shake violently, her throat closing up in panic.

Hurriedly, she shook out three of the small white pills into her injured hand, and munched down on each of them separately, her eyes closed in anticipation. More than a few passersby glanced worriedly at her, before remembering what they were doing and hurried along.

She was tagged with the name Powder a very long time ago. Almost everything about her was pale; her skin was an almost unhealthy white, her eyes nearly the same pallid shade and her hair a disarray of white-blond dreadlocks, making her look like some strange snow stick thing that shouldn't be walking around. Except for a huge cluster of blue and purple veins spread out across her back, she was almost completely devoid of color; and this, if nothing else, drove people away from her.

Powder felt the pills begin to work their magic; tendrils of calm worming their way from her center through her legs and arms, and finally up to her head. She breathed in, feeling energy flow through her brain and out her mouth, thick black smoke curling from between her lips. She smiled, her eyes closed in bliss.

Pulling her packet of cigarettes out of her purse, she lazily shook out one, bringing it to her mouth. She snapped her fingers together, a tiny flame appearing between them. As the tip end of the cigarette began to glow, she inhaled again, the aromatic smoke filling her lungs. When she exhaled that time, it was a gray, dreary smoke, blending into the gray, dreary color palate of London.

She hated this town, and the reason why she was there. Powder was pissed as punch when she found out Ziv had gone against the Organization. She couldn't blame the girl, really, this Edward Elric was fine as hell. It was a shame he had to die. She was just glad she didn't have to do it herself.

Powder was a watcher. She was so conspicuous that she was inconspicuous. No one would have picked her out as the spy; she was way too noticeable. And if Ziv – no, she went by Astrid now, she reminded herself – had taught her one thing, it was that if you don't want to be seen, you have to hide in plain sight. And if you want to hide in plain sight, you have to act like you don't care if you're seen or not.

She really liked Ziv. She was going to miss her when she was gone.

After taking one last drag off of her cigarette, she threw it to the ground, crushing it under her spike heel.

It was time to get the dogs out.

...

Edward's face was dangerously close to Astrid's. A little bump and their mouths would be on each other's.

He couldn't think of a worse place to be.

After barely jumping onto the ferry as it pulled away from the dock, they were forced to sneak into the car park and find the nearest car to fold themselves into the trunk of. It was, of course, the smallest car in the lot, but the only one with the empty trunk. It was pitch black in there.

With a sudden blinding flash, Astrid lit up the trunk, her hands sparking temporarily before letting off a soft, blue glow. Edward swore, rubbing the swirls away from his eyes.

"Sorry." He glared at her, her face as unapologetic as her sarcastic tone.

Astrid had her glowing hands curled up under her chin, her eyes gazing into his in that unnerving way again. Edward had an arm under his head and glared back at her.

"What," he sighed.

Her eyes danced on his face, moving rapidly from side to side. "What?"

"You are staring at me again." He frowned.

"What else is there to look at?" Her gaze didn't waver.

Edward grunted, unable to move much. She was right. He thought he might as well look at her, and came to the grudging conclusion that she wasn't ugly. Her lips were damned nice, although too big, he thought. Her eyes were quite beautiful. They were almost too big too, though, and that strange silver color. The black lashes around them were so long that they brushed her cheek when she blinked. The black makeup that had been smeared around her eyes these past few days had all but disappeared, making her look a little bit less crazy. Her hair was still wild, though. Right then it was curling around her cheek. Edward made another ridiculously close observation, then.

"You've got freckles." He ran the words that came out of his mouth through his head, immediately cursing himself.

She smiled, her little white teeth making an appearance. Her canines were a little crooked, higher up than the others and overlapping on the teeth beside them.

He frowned deeper.

Her smile faded into a ghost of what it was. Edward felt a burn deep in the back of his skull, and took a deep breath.

He didn't understand people. Sure, he knew exactly what the human body was composed of, but he couldn't figure out why he reacted the way he did with this woman. He supposed it was what his mother had called 'chemistry', completely different from Edward's formerly known definition of the word. She always spoke of the chemistry between his father and herself, saying how they could practically have a conversation without speaking. When Edward had asked about it, she would say that it's like a current that runs from one person to another; like a radio transmission, and that it happens when two people are meant to know each other. Edward disagreed, because humans could not give off radio signals. His mother simply waved her hand at him and told him he'd understand when he grew up.

Well, Edward had grown up, and he still didn't understand.

Edward knew for sure that he did not like Astrid. There was nothing likeable about her, truthfully. The way she strung her words together, for example. She'd roll the words around in her mouth before saying them, as if she was afraid to get them wrong. Her voice was deep and scratchy and had that unidentifiable accent. And she _had_ tried to kill him, even though she truthfully didn't have a choice. She still tried. The only reason he was enduring this incredibly annoying journey with her was because she had the only lead he had had in years on how to return to his world.

"Astrid?"

"Hmm." Her eyes had drifted shut, a smile still on her face.

"Why don't you just kill yourself?"

This opened her eyes.

"Why help me? Why don't you just shoot yourself, or throw yourself off of a building?" He looked at her searchingly, his frown still in place, his voice gruff.

She shrugged, or as best she could while in the cramped trunk. "I cannot."

"Just as I thought," he chuckled mirthlessly, "you're a coward. You need me to do it for you. Well, let me tell you, that's not going to happen, and if you think it is, you're dumber than I thought."

Astrid's breath came out in a huff, and she rolled to her other side, facing away from him. The light from her hands cast her body into a silhouette. "'_He who brings life cannot bring death. He who is given life cannot return it.'_ This is Necromancy's main laws. Laws that cannot be broken."

"I'm not following." Edward watched her form, waiting, anger building.

"I was given life. I cannot return it."

The trunk fell silent.

...

Edward was awoken brutally by the clatter of feet on the steel floor of the ferry. He attempted to sit up, resulting in banging his head on the trunk door.

"Fuck, fuck…" He rubbed his head, as quiet as possible to make sure no one heard him. He looked down in the darkness at Astrid, confusion muddling his thoughts.

The entire car shook as its occupants entered and slammed their doors.

The rev of an engine signaled to Edward that they had landed in Ramsgate. Soon, the car was ambling slowly off of the platform. It didn't take long for the uncomfortable jostle of the moving car to awaken Astrid, as well. He felt her move around in the dark.

"We're here, Edward?" Her voice was small, and she yawned.

He said nothing. He couldn't. His thoughts were stuck on her words.

Astrid reached out to touch him, her small, cold hands finding his knee. He jerked it away without thinking.

She pulled her hand away. "Okay...?" It was with that word that she shifter her body weight, kicking open the trunk.

The cold light of day broke through the now-open trunk, blinding Edward. The car screeched to a halt, and Astrid grabbed Edward, who was still trying to adjust to the light, by his automail wrist, tumbling out of the car. The moment their feet hit the ground, they took off, passing through the line of cars that had also just come off the ferry.

Some yelling in English and a blow of a whistle came from behind them, but they had already turned a corner into a back alley.

They pounded down the dreary, wet alley, their feet kicking up half-frozen sludge that soaked into the bottom of their pants. Edward wrenched his hand free of Astrid's grasp, breathing heavily as he leaned against the brick wall. Astrid came to an abrupt halt, her heavy boots skidding on the slick cobblestone.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Her eyebrows were sewn together in anger.

His chest was heaving up and down, his eyes burning into hers with that golden intensity that she was never going to get used to. "What does that mean, Astrid?" His voice was tight.

She put her hands on her hips, trying to catch her breath, her mouth open in incredulity. "What does it mean? It means what is your fucking problem, that's what it fucking means. We need to _go_."

"No." He stood up straighter, seeming to tower over her. "What do you mean by '_you were given life, you can never return it'_?"

She shrugged, scoffing. "Is that your problem? Forget it, can we go now, asshole? I don't want to end up in prison _again._ You don't want to end up in there either; they'll have fun with you." She craned her neck as if she was trying to look at his rear end.

"You're dead?" He didn't move. "Is that what you mean? You died?"

She rolled her eyes, grabbing for his hand. He pulled away.

Stopping short, she frowned. "I died, yes. And as a Necromancer, I had a free pass." She shrugged again. "I was brought back. Now, can we move onward? I'd _really _hate to be arrested." Gesturing with her hands and stomping her foot like a child, she groaned.

Edward shook his head, and began to jog beside her. "How'd you die?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Edward." Her eyes went cold, and she ran a little faster.

He looked at her profile, her full lips pulling down at the corners in a frown. "You were murdered?"

She whipped her head toward him, her gray eyes flashing at him in a way that almost frightened him. "I said I don't want to fucking talk about it." Her voice was low, murderous. She ran ahead of him, spitting out a glowing bit of sparking blue Drip along with some blood.

Edward decided he found her Touchy Subject. He also decided that he really didn't know this woman as well as he thought he did.


	15. Jitters and a Way With Words

A.N.: Hey all! This is just a small tidbit. Also a bit of inside as to why Astrid hates dogs so much, hahah. Thanks for the reviews you two!

….

Antoine DuFort sat in his office, his fingers laced and resting against his lips. His office overlooked Paris, the Eiffel Tower almost concealed by the snow flurries outside. It would have been a calming experience, had there not been screams in the room next to him. The sound of an electric shock was followed by the sound shaking chains, and then by silence.

"Monsieur?" The voice was quiet and emotionless.

"Oui?" Antoine stood up, walking toward the window, resting his hand on the cold glass. He held it there, the cold seeping into his skin, causing ice crystals to spread on his fingers.

"I think I killed him." The voice came from behind him. He hadn't heard her come in. He turned around, looking down at the small girl, her black hair in tight ringlets that didn't reach her shoulders.

Antoine crossed his arms across his chest, a chastising look on his face. "Now, Svetlana, did he tell you anything?"

Her tiny shoulders shrugged, and she looked down at her toe as it dug a small hole in the carpet. "He said that her husband lived in London. No one knows where though. Since he is her only family left, he thought she would go there. Also, Marie was found dead on the Nuremburg to Ostend train. It's most definitely her work. The lips were burnt back from the teeth. Very tacky if you ask me, Monsieur."

He smirked. Reaching his hand out, he patted her head lovingly. "Good girl, Svetlana. Good girl."

She skipped off, her tiny patent leather shoes clacking as she went. Antoine walked behind his desk again, pouring a glass of scotch. He took a sip and sat down again, smiling in triumph. He grabbed the phone off of the receiver, putting it to his ear.

"Jean? I'd like you to connect me with the Agency."

...

Powder was stretched out on a bench, her legs crossed at the ankle, her white stilettoes tapping violently against each other as she watched the crowds pass her. She had on a white pea coat, a white scarf, and white tights. Needless to say, she was getting very strange looks from anyone who bothered to pick her out from the snow on the ground. She was effectively camouflaged, just as she liked it. Her pale eyes peeled the crowd of people who aimlessly bustled around. At the sight of black hair, Powder reflected on Ziv. Ziv – _no, Astrid now, goddammit_, she reminded herself again — was easy enough to pick out in a crowd, but Powder would know her face from anywhere; they had been close, once. When Hassun died, she went off the deep end.

Powder had to admit, she missed Hassun too. He was the kind of man you missed. He was handsome, with his sleek black hair and dark eyes, a warm smile and even warmer disposition. He was a good fuck, too. Of course, no one was important enough to Powder to lose her standing with the Authority over.

She shook a cigarette out, putting it between her lips. _Nothing_ was important enough to lose her standing with the Authority.

Her cell phone rang in her pocket. She answered it without saying anything; the Agency preferred brevity.

"We're sending an agent from the Pound. Your assistant will be arriving soon. He's the best."

"Mmm," she mumbled around her cigarette. She hung up, stuffing it in her pocket. She would never understand how they could find her anywhere.

Just before she lit the cigarette in her mouth, a young boy of around five came up to her. He could barely move bundled up in coats as he was, and he had a huge dog on a leash, its eyes dark and cold as it looked at her. The boy's cheeks were rosy from the cold, his button nose running. He sniffed and smiled at Powder. Powder bared her teeth at the boy. He took a step back, a pout forming, and held the leash out to her.

She snatched it out of his small hand. "Name?"

"James! Yours?" He smiled widely again.

Powder hissed. "The dog's name, you fucking twat."

His smile fell again, his lip quivering. "Barhades."

"That's a stupid name." She looked the dog over, her gloved hand running along his long spine. It was grey, just like everything else in the city. She sighed in exasperation.

"I didn't name him!" He folded his arms as best as he could in his puffy coat.

"Not the dog's name, yours." Powder pulled the dog's gums back from his teeth. They were white and strong, and good enough to bite through anything it needed to. The dog remained motionless.

The boy began to sniffle, tears brimming.

"Give me the command, and you can run back home to mommy." She glared at him and turned back toward the dog, rubbing behind the dog's ears. The dog was still, irritated if anything.

The boy pulled a folded piece of paper from out of his pocket. _Jack fell down the hill._ This would signal to the dog that she was his new master. _Broken crown. _This was the kill command. Powder wished it knew sit and stay, and was reminded that this wasn't an ordinary dog.

"Get out of here, brat," she growled. The boy ran off, crying. That's how most people reacted after meeting her. She chuckled.

She looked down at the dog, who stared up at her blankly. Taking the dog's head between her hands, she kissed its nose, sending some of her pure energy to the dog. "Jack fell down the hill." The dog blinked, then licked her chin once. The bond was formed. It was a strong dog; the muscles ripped along his body wherever she touched it. Good enough, she thought. She rubbed its back affectionately.

"Come on then, Barhades. We've got a rogue Mancer to catch."

...


	16. Hitchhikers and an Old Soothsayer

A.N.: This and the next are short, but tasty! They had to happen, anyways. Let me know what you think! Give me some suggestions if I'm doing anything wrong! :D

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN FMA

It was a bit past midnight by the time Astrid and Edward ended up in London. A farmer had picked them up along the road, saying something about how young people shouldn't be out so late, but allowing them only to ride in the back of his truck. This was not such a blessing in twenty-degree weather. The wind buffeting past the truck came back on the two of them with a vengeance, blowing freezing rain and bits of snow onto them, feeling like tiny bullet wounds where they struck them. Edward was silent as Astrid climbed into his lap, sliding her arms under his coat. She knew that he wouldn't deny her; she could feel him shivering when her arms went around his waist. His body was hard and muscled, and for the first time since meeting him, she realized how much power he truly had. His muscles rippled under her hands each time a shiver took him, contracting and releasing as the cold went through his body. Even if he wouldn't be able to channel his energy, Astrid would be afraid to fight him.

"I'm regretting letting you cut my hair," he yelled over the wind through chattering teeth. His arms wound around her, holding her tightly to him. Astrid breathed him in, reveling in this rare moment of allowed closeness. He bent his neck, pushing his face into the crook of her neck. Her heart almost stopped as she felt his warm breath on her neck, causing every hair on her body to stand on end. The cold was forgotten as she rested her forehead on his chest, her hands grasping the back of his shirt.

"Edward?" Her voice was muffled, but he heard her.

"Mmm?" His chest rumbled against her face.

She licked her dry, cold lips. "How—I mean…Do you think—"

"Spit it out." He breathed in, the sound of his deep chest taking in air making a strange sound in Astrid's ear.

"Do you think we could have been friends if I wouldn't have tried to bring back Hassun?" She paused, her face growing red.

Edward stilled. "I don't follow you."

Astrid breathed in. "I killed many people in order to bring back one person in an illegal activity, and it didn't even work. As penance, I had to kill people the Authority ordered me too. You were one of the people. So, do you think we could have been friends if I hadn't tried to bring back Hassun? If, maybe, I had just gone on with my life and we would have met under different circumstances?"

Edward went rigid, his arms stiffening. He held his breath, thinking. Astrid waited as he pondered, her hands still in a death grip on his shirt. He sighed, tightening his hold on her. "You couldn't have gone on with your life, Astrid. You loved him very much. Even had he died a slow death and you knew he was going to die, you would have tried to bring him back, because you had the power. We wouldn't have met. So no, I don't think so."

Astrid nodded, tucking her head closer to him. "I hope, when you return to your world, Edward, that you think of me."

"I suppose I won't, Astrid," he lied. "but maybe I will. We're friends, after all."

She looked up at him, but he had his head back and his eyes closed, as though he hadn't just been kind to her. She smiled.

….

Today was the day.

Promises of Shamballa was Pearl's pride and joy. Her children had long since grown, one gone to University and the other a prominent head of the Earth family, and while she was proud of their achievements, she missed them. Nothing to fill her life anymore after the death of her husband, she opened Promises of Shamballa.

Pearl had a sense for the other worlds. She had known that a great force had ripped Edward Elric through the Cloth, and she knew that force to be the abomination with the silver eyes that had long haunted her dreams. The silver-eyed woman stalked the world, an electric hand coming down on her foes. She smiled when she killed. She took pride in her violence. She slithered across the earth like some great, hideous snake, poisoning whatever she touched. Something had been taken from her, something incredibly precious to her. She had nothing left. Her soul was black. This disgusted Pearl.

Pearl knew of the boy's importance to this world. She wasn't sure what exactly he was to do, but she knew it would change the course of the world. A new millennia was fast approaching, after all.

She walked towards the back of the shop, her feet creaking along the floorboards. She paused on one, kneeling down as best she could, and pried it open. Her arthritic hands shook as she turned the knob on the safe. It opened, a soft purple glow resonating from it.

They couldn't have it. They could _never _have it. Who 'they' were, she was unaware. All she knew was that only Edward Elric must have it; and no Mancer should ever lay hands on it, not even herself. She folded a small note into the safe, careful not to touch the object. She closed it again, locked it, and replaced the floor boards.

The Higher Ones' bidding had been done. It would all go according to plan, now.

She smiled as the front window to her shop blew open in a rain of glass and ice. She didn't even cry out as an icicle pierced her side, then her leg, then her chest. She slumped to the ground, her blood seeping into the wood and from her lips as shouts and stomps filled the air. He would succeed, because he had too. Edward Elric _would_ succeed.

She shut her eyes as the darkness took over, the Hereafter awaiting her.

Today was the day.


	17. Flashbacks and English Food

A.N.: Thanks again for your lovely comments, they keep my fingers a typin'!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or anything associated with it.

* * *

"Hello, Alex. Good to see you."

The man laced his fingers that rested on his desk, his severe blonde hair raked back from his strong face, a frown upon it. "I wish I could say the same, Bianca."

Powder smiled, her white teeth blank against her white face. "Ha. Right. Cause you're blind."

Alex frowned, his unseeing eyes looking off to the right of her. "No, because you're a bitch."

Her smile fell. "Hmm. Well. Have you seen Draga?"

Alex shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "No, I most definitely haven't."

"Should I say, have you met with _Astrid_? You little stickler, you." Her voice was patronizing, and the vile smirk on her face went unseen.

Alex leaned back in his chair, his mouth in a firm line, showing he derived no humor from her false entertainment. "Draga hasn't been here in almost ten years, Bianca. I assume she knows she's looking for her, so I very much doubt she would see me."

Powder's eye began to twitch. "On the contrary, I think this would be the first place she would go. I know if I were her, I would."

"Well, you're not her, are you Bianca?" A smile picked at the side of his mouth, and he crossed one leg over the other. "Draga always got it right, didn't she? Always a little ahead of you. Seems that way still."

She felt the sizzle of Drip on her fingertips, burning her down to the quick. Smoke began to pour out of her mouth.

"First in school, first in Academy, always the best at her lessons. She had Hassun completely. Chosen first by the Authority to become a Hunter, even though she committed the most heinous crime in the history of the Authority's upbringing. And you are, what now? A Watcher?" Alex's smile grew a bit wider. "Hell, even when you both were dead, they managed to bring her back first."

Powder's hand slammed on his desk, the thick red-orange liquid falling from her fingers, scorching his desk. "If she's been here, Alex, I'll know."

His smile never wavered. "I'm sure you will. Watcher."

The sound of her heels clacking furiously down the hall let Alex relax, slumping back into his chair. He reached for the receiver of his phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Send them in."

* * *

Powder sat on the bench, her eyes red and puffy, scrubbing furiously at them. Her cigarette vibrated in her hand as she shook her knee, ash falling from it and blowing in the wind. Her lower lip trembled as a few more tears escaped her eyes.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out the old picture. Astrid had her arm around Powder, huge grins on both of their faces. Astrid had her tongue sticking out, their faces pressed close to each other.

"_If you need me, Bianca, I'll be there in the blink of an eye." Her nose wrinkled as she smiled, her grey eyes lighting up. _

_Bianca smiled widely. "We can't go by our real names anymore, Draga. Codenames, remember?" _

_Draga stood up, her fingers shaped like a gun, and pointed them at Bianca. "Freeze, Or!"_

_Bianca put her hands up playfully, "But Ziv, I'm on your side." _

Powder squashed the memory down and took another drag off of her cigarette.

She may have beaten her at every turn so far, but not anymore.

"In the blink of an eye, you bitch. In the blink of an eye."

* * *

Astrid and Edward were sitting in the waiting room, an awkward silence filling the air as the secretary watched them.

Edward shuffled farther down in his seat, his arms crossed and his legs spread wide. Astrid had her back ramrod straight, her legs crossed, and was picking at her nails. She looked at the door from time to time, wondering if the white flash of a person that went by it a few moments ago was someone she knew.

She shook her head.

She felt a hand crawl up her thigh, and she looked pointedly at the golden hand, his long fingers massaging her flesh of her leg. She raised an eyebrow, feeling a familiar warmth crawl up her lower belly, and looked at Edward.

"Can I help you?" She looked at his hand.

"Are you okay?" He took in the line between her eyebrows, and her stressed stance.

She nodded, her words trapped in her throat. His hand fell from her leg. She looked at him, and he stood up, his hands in his pockets. He began to pace, his stance slouching and watchful as he walked in front of her, _stomp, clunk, stomp, clunk, _his automail leg clinking as he moved about. He towered above her, making the harsh lines of his bone structure even more pronounced, his wide shoulders blocking the light from the dingy ceiling fan.

She reached out her hand, grabbing his pant leg, a vein in her head throbbing.

"Would you fucking stop that?" She glared up at him, letting go of his pants.

He looked down at her, a frown marring his brow.

Leaning down, his hands on his knees, he brought his face close to hers, his breath falling on her face. The smell of mint and him took over her senses, and she forgot what breathing was.

"You sure you're okay?"

The ringing of a telephone caused them both to snap out of it.

"Yes, sir, I'll send them both in now."

The woman looked at the both of them pointedly, and Astrid stood, brushing imaginary dust off of her pants. She motioned at Edward to follow her, and she began to walk down the hall. Her back hurt from sitting in the same position for twenty minutes.

Just before she raised her hand to the door to knock, she felt Edward grab her from behind, his hands encircling her waist, and turning her toward him. His hand went into her hair, pulling her mouth to his. She sighed, her arms going around his neck.

He pulled back, his eyebrow raised. _You're okay now? _He didn't need to say anything.

She smiled.

Funnily enough, she was okay just then.

She knocked.


	18. Dogs, Antagonists and Familiar Garb

A.N.: So, I didn't know if any of you caught it, but she was referred to as Draga once before in a previous chapter. I know, I know, I'm the queen of surprise twists. *sarcasm implied. Draga, if you aren't familiar with the Serbian language, is a term of endearment, along with an actual name. So, I just pulled a fucking Kill Bill twist on you.

Disclaimer, I still don't own anything.

* * *

"Come _on_, Fluffy!" Powder stood on the backs of her heels, yanking at the thick leash around the dog's neck. The dark, huge dog was sitting down, his spine regal as he looked at her. "Goddamnit, what was your _name_?" She looked at the dog expectantly, as if it could answer her. "It was badass." The dog almost appeared to raise its non-existent eyebrow.

She knew he wouldn't follow her if she didn't command him with his name.

Powder stomped her foot, causing a jarring pain to tear up her leg from her stilettos. Her eyes widened, and she heard a sizzle as Drip fell from her fingers and into the snow. She looked down at the thick, molten red liquid, and screamed.

"FUCK!" Her hands were curled at her side, causing her to burn her palms. She raised her head to the heavens and screamed. Everyone in that particular alleyway threw her strange glances.

Her voice spent, she looked down at the dog again. Even sitting down, he was almost eye level with her. He was fucking huge. She reached down between his ears, scratching them. He closed his eyes.

"Jesus, what is you're fucking name?" She looked up at the heavens again, ducking slightly, hoping the religious icon would answer her. He didn't.

She sighed, sitting in the snow. She rubbed his chest, and a sigh came from his massive lungs. Her hand caused the collar around his neck to jingle. The cold silver nametag revealed itself.

_Barhades _

_Finder #1342_

_Level Black_

Powder frowned. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

She continued to look at the name tag, the realization that she had just spent the better part of the past hour trying to get the dog to move.

She stared.

And stared.

"Ff—" Her white face steadily turned red.

"—uuu" Her fists curled at her sides.

"ccc—" Smoke started to pour from her mouth.

"—FUUUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" A column of flame shot from her mouth. The dog simply dodged to the side, never bothering to get up.

Shaking, black smoke pouring out her mouth, she stood up, her hand doubled up on the leash.

"Come, Barhades." The dog stood, and seemed to smirk at her. She decided she wasn't a fan of dogs, anymore.

* * *

"Antoine DuFort."

The tall man turned in his high-backed leather chair, the phone tight on his ear. "Yes, ma'am."

Antoine stood, his hand placed protectively on a box on his desk.

"I assume that you have located the target."

He stiffened at the tone he heard in the woman's cold voice. "We have, yes ma'am."

"I assume you have located the girl."

"Yes, ma'am, they are together after all."

"Do not patronize me, Antoine DuFort."

Antoine's hands became cold as they tightened on the box. "Of course not, ma'am, never."

The sound of fingernails tapping on a desk caused the fine hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He didn't dare ask her to continue.

"You have Draga in your custody?"

"N-no, ma'am. We are—"

"She is dead, then?" Her voice grew in intensity, and Antoine swallowed heavily.

"No, ma'am."

"I seemed to have assumed wrong, then. Who have you dispatched to eliminate Agent Ziv?"

"Agent Or, ma'am."

"Mmm." The sound of rustling papers was heard. "The white one."

"Yes, ma'am. We have her assigned to a Finder, level Black."

The woman made an approving noise. "You are aware she is in London?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You are aware her husband is the one person she _must_ not find."

"Of course, ma'am."

The line went silent, and Antoine started to grow lightheaded. "Draga Ivanovic must be found and eradicated."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Draga Ivanovic must not obtain the Egress Stone."

Antoine smirked, clearing his throat. "We have obtained the Stone, ma'am."

The line went silent again. He began to sweat.

"Ma'am?" His voice came out thin and reedy.

"You have the Stone."

He swallowed. "Yes."

The line clicked off, and Antoine replaced the phone to the receiver shakily.

Slumping down into his chair, his normally ramrod posture broken. What could he have done to upset her? He rubbed his fingers across an object in his hand, his body immediately relaxing.

It took him a few moments to notice what it was, exactly, that he was caressing.

He looked down at it, confusion filling him. Had he taken the stone out of the box? His fingers were cold as they passed over the smooth, marbled stone. The purple glow it emitted cast everything around him in an eerie shadow. As he gazed into the stone, he felt something pull away from his self and into the stone, and he looked away hurriedly. He unlatched the heavy black box and folded the stone back in the black silk, setting it back into the box. His hand shook as he shut and locked the box, and felt a pulsing anger take over him.

It wasn't his anger. His eyes burned as he stared at the box, feeling its power try and wrap around him. He felt drained.

He suddenly became very worried.

* * *

"Edward?" Astrid looked behind her, her shoulders hitched up against the wind.

He looked up at her, smiling. Her heart caught in her throat at the perfectly molded lips and the dark stubble around them. She wished she knew what they felt like.

"I'm going into the shop…are you okay?" His eyes left hers and they followed a car that sped past.

He snapped back his attention to her, his gaze leaving the city around him. "Yeah. It's just that London has changed so much since I've been here last."

Astrid smiled back at him. "It's been a few decades."

"That it has. Be careful." He nodded towards the large department store, his eyes wary on her.

She stood still for a moment, unsure of how to take this newfound camaraderie she had with him. She just smiled and nodded her head.

At least she had a friend again.

* * *

Edward sat on a bench outside of the huge building that Astrid had called a shop. It was larger than Central Command! He couldn't understand how there could be that many things to buy.

Then again, he couldn't understand any of this world anymore. London was bigger than Central City could ever imagine. So much had changed since he had been here last. And these vehicles they drove! One passed him just then, the sound of it rushing past. He would have loved to get his hands on the engine of it to see what kind of fuel made it run as it did. Sure, he had seen many of them during his time in Nuremburg, but they still fascinated him.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he stiffened, grabbing the wrist of the hand. He turned to look back, prepared to break it. He saw it was Astrid and he loosened his grip, and he smiled at her. He smiled? He didn't understand what was happening to him, either. He never found himself smiling at _anyone. _Maybe it was his extended stay in this mad world; perhaps this was its effect on him.

She smiled back at him. He couldn't remember why he didn't think she was pretty before. He was still holding onto her wrist, and enjoyed the feeling of her smooth skin before letting her have it back.

"Sorry if I startled you." Her husky voice was soft as she sat next to him on the bench, her thigh pressed up against his. He felt her warmth move to him, and he crossed his leg over the other, fighting the stir in his pants from just her nearness. What was his problem?

He shrugged in answer to her, and gestured wordlessly to the plastic bags in her hands.

"I picked up some clothes. I think these will fit you." She handed him a bag.

Edward opened it, rummaging around. He pulled out a black t-shirt, holding it against himself. He nodded in approval. He set the t-shirt back into the bag, and pulled out a dark red, zippered sweatshirt. He threw a look at her, confused.

"Do I talk in my sleep or something?"

She looked taken aback. "Sorry?"

His gaze turned back to the articles of clothing in his possession. It was certainly a coincidence. He shrugged, pulling his leather jacket off, pulling on the sweatshirt. His jacket came on over it. He knew it was just mindset, but he felt like himself with the familiar color on his back.

"Never mind; thank you. It does fit."

"Sure." She did the same, but she had a simple black one that pulled over her head. As her head popped out of the neck, small pieces of dark hair clung to her moist lips and eyelashes.

Before he realized what he was doing, he pushed the wayward pieces away from her face and tucked them behind her ear.

She looked at him, her eyebrows raised.

He froze, his hand still suspended in the air near her face. Her eyes met his, and he saw something cloud over them. Her mouth was slightly open, and her warm breath fell on his face.

Jerking his hand back to his side, he mumbled an apology and stood up. He began to walk when he felt a hand grab the sleeve of his jacket.

He looked down at her; she was grinning.

"Wrong way, Edward." She motioned down the street, and began walking.

He followed, trying to keep his eyes on the back of her head.


	19. Laughter in an Inappropriate Place

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, and I never will. :(

* * *

"It's not that bad, Edward." The sound of breaking glass came from the other room, and she sighed.

Astrid was sitting in the shabby chair in the apartment, applying cosmetics with one hand and munching on chips with the other.

"They're fucking everywhere, Astrid, and we—Fuck!" The heavy _thunk _of broken floor tiles resounded in the room.

"No, Edward. Sadly, we don't do that," she mumbled miserably around the food in her mouth. "Edw—" Another thunk, "EDWARD," she shouted.

His disheveled golden head poked around the corner, his face furious and disgusted. "Insects, Astrid. There are insects _everywhere._"

"They are not _everywhere_." She turned to look at him. A particularly large black roach scuttled across the wall next to him, and the red color in his face grew bright. He punched the wall with his metal fist, causing the drywall to crumble and form a fist-size hole, the gooey aftermath of the bug revealing itself as he pulled his fist out of the wall. He grimaced and wiped his hand on his pants.

Astrid narrowed her eyes at him. "I think you got him."

"They are _fucking everywhere._" Another scuttled by his flesh foot. He jumped, slamming down on it with his metal foot, a sickening _squish _coming from it.

She shrugged one shoulder, expressively conceding the point. She turned back to her mirror, applying lipstick. Mashing her lips together, she smiled at herself, turning this way and that. Seeing a little pink smudge on her tooth, she buffed it away.

Unaware that he had stalked over to her, he shoved his metal hand in her face. The still kicking carcass of the bug was near her face, and she frowned. "Insects." His voice was low and murderous.

"Yes, Edward. Astrid see bug." She turned around, her face very close to his, his anger coming off of him in waves. "You cannot expect the place to be in perfect condition, Edward. I've left the place like this since I was sixteen."

"You must have been a filthy sixteen-year-old. No insect could possibly invade a _perfectly kempt living space._"

"Did I say that?" She thought back, and nodded. She had told him that. Oh well. "It's been almost ten years," she rationalized.

"You don't deny you were a filthy sixteen-year-old?"

"Vehemently." Her eyebrows came up then down and she annunciated the word, her mouth a thin line.

Edward's chin fell to his chest, and he sighed. He looked back up at her, frown marring his features. "Why are you getting all gussied-up?" He grabbed her chin with his hand, turning her face this way and that.

She knocked his hand aside. "I've got places to go tonight, grandpa. That's why I'm getting _gussied-up._"

He shrugged, his hands still braced on either side of her as she turned back to the mirror. He watched, mesmerized, as she leaned forward and applied mascara. Her mouth was open in an 'O'.

"Your eyelashes were already black." He said quietly, still watching her as she applied coat after coat.

"Thank you, genius boy. But now they are much blacker." She raised her eyebrow, her attention going to the eyeliner.

He twisted his head to the side like a confused dog. "What's that for?"

"You ask any more questions and I'll make sure you know personally." She glared at his reflection in the mirror.

She began to slather on the foundation, covering the scars and bruises she had obtained. Edward's eyes grew wide.

"How strange," he stated, his hand reaching up and stroking her cheek. She turned her head, pinching his finger with her teeth.

"Ow! Bitch!" He shook his hand, backing away from her. They stared at each other for the longest time, disbelief in what she had just done causing Edward's face to twist in horror.

She brought her hand up to her mouth, a chuckle coming forth.

"What the fuck are you laughing at? I'm bleeding!"

Her laugh began to grow in intensity, the throaty sound echoing in the walls.

Chalking it down to insanity, Edward joined in, his own deep laugh filled the room. Soon, they were gasping for air, slapping their knees and grasping their sides and the not-particularly-funny incident.

Astrid leaned back in her chair, trying desperately to breathe in between laughs, when she fell, her feet flying up into the air. This caused the both of them to be caught back up into another attack. Edward started to crawl over to her, his laugh growing wheezy as he struggled to breathe.

"You—" He guffawed, "—okay?"

She nodded, her hand going to her mouth. "Are…you—" she giggled, "actually…bleeding?"

He raised his finger, a bit of blood falling from his finger, and falling to the floor. Her head fell back to the floor in laughter, and she began to roll around.

Edward fell to the ground himself, his head on the ground near hers. He wiped his eyes, the vestiges of laughter still gripping him.

"Oh…my…god." Astrid took a deep breath, a large, ridiculous smile still plastered on her face. "Why was that so funny?"

Edward's hands were resting on his stomach, which was heaving. "I have no idea." He looked over at her, his own smile split nearly from ear-to-ear. She twisted her head, meeting his eyes.

It got very quiet; the only sound was their breath as they heaved, still recovering from the laughter that had taken over them.

"Astrid?" His voice was low and gruff. Something clouded his eyes.

She felt heat curl up from her stomach. "Yeah?"

He stared at her. He licked his lips, his eyes moving rapidly across her face.

"What, Edward?"

He scooted closer, his golden eyes locked with her silver ones. His hand reached for her face, his eyes moving down to her lips. She took her bottom one in her mouth, unaware what he was about to do.

He looked back to her eyes, and she raised an eyebrow.

The spell was broken. Edward frowned, his hand falling short, his finger pointing to her face. "Your black shit is starting to run."

She rolled her eyes. Sitting up, she looked back down at him. He had his hands cupped behind his head, the muscles in his arms protruding. She frowned, disappointed.

"Men…" she muttered under her breath.

* * *

A.N.: Hey guys! Let me know how you're liking the story! Thank you~


	20. Arguments and Connections

Disclaimer: I still don't own anythinggggg

* * *

"Look, Astrid, I believe you when you say you sprayed it in here, but it just feels…"

Astrid poked her head around the corner, her eyebrow raised and a frown on her face.

Edward swallowed visibly. "…buggy."

Astrid raised her hand, which was spitting of vibrant blue sparks. Survival instinct kicked in, and he ducked to the side. His eyes went blind as a beam of lightning passed by his head and hit the wall beside him. The smell of burnt bug filled the air.

"If that wasn't the last bug in here, then my name isn't Astrid."

A bug scuttled past her foot, and she frowned.

Edward scowled at her, rubbing his knee as he stood up. He sauntered over to her and stomped down on it, the insect crunching audibly. He twisted his foot for good measure and looked up at her. "So, where exactly are we going tonight?"

Astrid sighed, walking into the bedroom, rummaging through the drawers.

"This apartment has been in my name since I was sixteen, as I said. I had run away from home and needed a place to stay, so my friend Alex said he had a place. This was the place."

Edward came in after her, his arms crossing across his chest. "That doesn't explain anything."

She threw a glare over her shoulder. "I wasn't done, asshole," she went back to going through the drawers.

"Anyway, he owns a very prestigious club in the outskirts. Very high class, you see." She waved a hand in the air. "I was his best dancer. He once told me that if I needed anything from him, all I would have to do is dance, and I'd get whatever I wanted."

Edward was quiet as she pulled out a pair of leather pants very similar to the ones she had on, only less torn and filthy.

"So, if I may get this right," his voice was quiet and murderous.

Astrid didn't seem to notice. "Mmhmm."

"You're going to strip in order to get information?"

She glared at him again. "I'm not a stripper, Edward. It is traditional traveler's dancing. Belly dancing, if you will. So, tonight, I dance in order to get Teddy's current address."

She could practically hear Edward's teeth grinding. "This flies dangerously close to prostitution."

"Nonsense. You have to have sex in order to constitute prostitution, and there's no sex going on in my life right now. Goddammit." She muttered the last part under her breath.

"Well, I don't like it." His face was set in a stubborn frown, and Astrid rolled her eyes.

"Well, I don't care." She went to pull her pants off.

Edward had become too accustomed to her constant nudity that it didn't phase him. She pulled the new leather pants on, suctioned tightly to her round bottom, and Edward cleared his throat.

"How do clothes from when you were sixteen still fit?" He couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her backside.

"Are you that idiotic?"

Edward cocked his head. "Then where did they come from?"

She rolled her eyes yet again. "Alex knew I was in town. He had some clothes sent here. You have some, too." She gestured to another chest-of-drawers across the room.

Edward's face took on a sinister shadow. "And how, exactly, does he know where we are?"

Astrid stood up, her hands on her hips. "He's a Watcher. He sees everything that goes on in his territory."

His eyes closed in frustration. "If he knows where we are, then how is it that Antoine doesn't?"

"Don't worry about it, Edward." She looked at him meaningfully.

He threw his hands up in the air. "Fuck it."

"Look, Edward, once we figure out how to harness that power you have in you, we won't have anything to worry about."

She pulled her shirt over her head, and her small silver necklace fell back onto her chest. Pointedly ignoring her half-nakedness, he gestured to the necklace. "You must miss the old life."

Her eyes flicked up to him, her face and chest growing red in anger, her eyebrows drawn together. "That's none of your fucking business." She took a step toward him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

For the second time since he'd met her, she actually looked like she wanted to kill him.

He put his hands up in defeat, and pivoted out of the room. He made a note in his head to never mention the necklace again.

* * *

"Edward, keep up. Don't look so suspicious." Astrid kept her voice low as she pushed her way through the throng of people, reaching out for Edward's hand.

He pulled away, using whatever exhausted mental power he had left to focus on her ass as she wound her way through the crowd. "I'm fucking coming."

He almost collided into her back when she stopped suddenly in front of a small, two story structure in between two high rises. "Here we are."

She climbed the few steps to stand in front of a large man, his hands braced in front of him. The look on his face dared them to try something. Edward suddenly wished he was younger, and had enough fire to punch the look right off of his face.

A bit of silver around his neck drew Edward's attention. Astrid caught it too, and her large lips broke out into a smile. Were they everywhere?

"There are two bulbs in a socket, the right one is blue." Her voice took on a serious tonality as she looked him in the eyes.

Edward suddenly wondered if she'd gone mad, but he let her through. He followed after her, and was stopped by the huge man's arm. The man looked down at him, and Edward's metal hand curled in a fist.

Astrid put a hand in Edward's, and he pulled away again. She frowned.

"The second bulb is broken."

The man's arm came down, and he stared straight forward, Edward completely forgotten.

He walked past the man, coming to stand by Astrid, who had a wrinkle in between her brows. He poked it. "What the hell was that about?"

She let her breath out in a huff. "Mancer world is ruled by codes. It's how we've survived this long out in the open. We'll be allowed into the basement, now." She stepped onto the elevator near the door they had just entered, and pushed the 'B'.

"What did you mean by broken?" His face looked angry, for some reason.

"It means you're an out of commission Mancer. Seemed like the most likely explanation as to why your energy is so weak and muddled, and why you want an audience with Alex."

"Weak? And muddled?" He crossed his arms and scooted farther away from her, his face red.

Rolling her eyes for the hundredth time that day, she threw her arms up. "Fucking hell, Edward, you're touchy."

She squeezed through the elevator doors before they had time to completely open, leaving Edward jogging after her.

"I just don't know if I like this idea. Is it the only way?"

The serious tone in his voice caused Astrid to pause. She looked back at him. "Yes, it is. If there were a different way, I would take it."

Edward stood there for a moment, his eyes on the tacky red carpet. He looked back up at her, his eyes meeting hers. He nodded.

Astrid smiled, and lent him her hand.

This time, he took it.


	21. Prelude to a Disaster

A.N.: This one's a doozy. I remembered most of what I wrote previous to the computer explosion. Thank you for those who read this! New readers, let me know what you think!

* * *

"Edward, trust me on this." Without waiting for him to turn around, she ripped her shirt off, her plain white bra underneath coming off with it. He spun around, his face burning.

They were in the changing room of the club, and Edward couldn't have felt more uncomfortable. He was surrounded with different tiny bits of clothing and accessories; the girlishness of it threatened to swallow him.

"He'll just hand over Teddy's address?" His massive arms crossed across his chest, and Astrid sighed.

"No." She knew she had Alex wrapped around her finger, but Edward wouldn't understand that. "This is to get an audience. He'll surely give me one. Then, we get the address."

"Is it really worth it?" His voice was small and angry.

She pulled on the beaded top that didn't really deserve to be called a top; it was just two small triangles connected by tarnished gold chains that held tight in some places and hung low to her waist in others. Maybe she didn't miss the late hours of this job, but she certainly loved the outfits. She pulled the top on, fumbling with the latches in the back.

"Help me into this." She turned her back to Edward. "And it's not like I'm stripping naked in front of a hundred men, Edward. Think of it as entertainment."

His rough, calloused fingers brushed her back as he messed with the multitude of thin chains. "You might as well be doing just that. There's nothing stopping this thing from falling off."

She rolled her eyes as he pinched her back on accident. "Quit trying to force it. Your hands are too big, Edward."

"Not my problem – ah, there." The last clasp snapped together with a _clink, _and he stood back from her.

Running across the room, she unzipped her leather pants, trying to kick out of them so she could pull on her bottoms when she got to the drawers. She only succeeded in tripping, falling face down on the dingy carpet. Her pants were suctioned around her knees. Edward's laugh was so loud she was surprised no one came in to shut him up.

"Shut your fucking mouth and come pull these off, we don't have time for this!" She thrust both of her legs in the air. He jogged over, grabbing the waist band of the pants. He leveraged his foot by her hip and yanked, the pants ripping down the seam of one leg. "These were my favorite pants, asshole." She kicked him in the stomach, and he fell back, coughing.

She tore the remainder of the pants off of her legs, and threw the drawers open by her head, rummaging. She withdrew a rust colored bolt of fabric, a small row of snaps at both ends. Wrapping it low around her hips, she hooked the ends together at the front so only her backside was covered. Pulling out another, shorter bolt of mustard yellow, she hooked that one on her side, making a draping skirt with a massive slit up the leg. Looking at Edward, she put two thumbs up, smiled, and ran out of the room. She caught the look of disgust on his face before she ran out.

* * *

Edward gathered up her now-destroyed pants and t-shirt, the smell of her clinging to them. He put his face in them, inhaling that warm vanilla and spice scent that was uniquely hers. He stopped immediately when he realized what he was doing. He figured that his odd behavior was because of pent up sexual frustration, caused of course by Astrid herself. He had only seen her body the one time on the train, and even then he had only seen it for a split second through hazy steam. The brief few minutes of her half-naked in that room with him let him take in sights he had undeniably wanted to see for a very long time. He had expected her to be fit, but he hadn't expected her to be so goddamn appealing. Her skin was pale, but it was flawless, golden and taut across her stomach and arms. Her muscles were subtle but definitely there, rippling under that skin of hers and making her shape all the more attractive. Under the t-shirts and jackets he could never tell how full her breasts were. He knew, that because he had seen them in that scandalous top, he would never think of anything else again. She was perfect. It annoyed him to no end that other men would be allowed to see that, and that men had seen that before him. At that point, he didn't care how crazy it sounded, but he was jealous.

* * *

The room was small, filled with men young and old and very old alike. A man guided Edward to the front row. He was given several spiteful looks. He couldn't understand why. He settled down into the seat, and the lights dimmed.

The sound of heavy drums came from some place unseen, and a bright light shone onto the stage directly in front of him. Astrid was there, in the clothing she had left him in, her back to him and her arms above her head. Her spine began to roll as the sound of a flute picked up, and Edward bit down on his tongue.

She turned slowly, facing her audience as she paused with the music.

Then, the music picked back up.

She tilted her head down, swaying her hips, her hands rolling above her. Raising her head slowly, her hair fell away from her face, a few curls clinging to the heat on her skin. Her eyes were closed in bliss, her hands tracing the shapes of her body, her long fingers catching on the prominent parts of her figure and causing everyone in the room to go quiet. She seemed to move in slow motion. Edward had no problems imagining her without her small top, and this worried him a bit. On her hand's path back up her body, one drop of sweat rolled down between her fingers and into the little dip of the muscle above her navel and down to the waistband of her skirt. Ed's sharp intake of breath went unnoticed by everyone, except for Astrid. Her eyes flew open, locking almost automatically with his. His eyes moved from hers to her mouth, where her small, pink tongue darted out and licked those damned lips of hers, the dull golden light of the room causing them to glisten. He felt himself bare his teeth, wanting to tear into her and do other unmentionable things and he knew it showed on his face. Her mouth quirked up into a smug smile, and he was too consumed by the sudden onslaught of filthy thoughts that he couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed. She turned around, her hands coming up to lift her heavy mass of thick curls above her head, turning her head towards him and smiling over her shoulder, her eyes half lidded and looking for all the world like she desired him.

It was the small silver chain around her neck that hit Edward like a cold bucket of water. She was good at this. She made him forget what she was, and the incredibly horrific journey they had ahead of them. He stood up abruptly, pushing his way out of the building through the crowd of stunned-stupid men. He no doubt looked just like them a few seconds ago, with that look on their face like they had just been punched square in the stomach.

The bouncer had even slacked off his duties to watch her deploring display. His chin hung to his chest and his eyes were glazed with want. Ed shouldered past him, reaching up and roughly shutting his mouth for him.

"You'll catch flies like that."

The huge bald man didn't give him a second thought.

He continued up the elevator and outdoors, where he finally stopped in the alley, resting his back against the brick wall and turning his collar up against the wind.

It was all he could do not to move a muscle and wait for this farce to finish. His anger simmered as he waited, an hour turning into two before Astrid's curly black head walked out of the club. She had a small piece of paper in her hand, and a satisfied look on her face. The look vanished as soon as saw him. He knew he looked intimidatingly angry and it probably frightened her, and he didn't care.

She walked past him and he followed, a step behind her. "I got an audience."

Edward was moments away from yelling at the tops of his lungs. He didn't know why, but he was deeply disgusted at her doing anything to get that small, white piece of paper.

"And what did you do to get that?" He sneered at her back. "How'd you put out the fire you set in there, huh?"

"Will you shut up? It was bad enough you had to see that." She turned down another alley so dark that he could hardly see her outline in the blue light of the moon. She shook her head in disgust.

"You can't stand when I look at you." He said it incrudulously, the idea hitting him almost as hard as a punch to the face.

"It's not-" She didn't look back at him or slow her pace, but she raised her head, as if she realized something. "I don't like you looking at me, because when you look at me I want to touch you. And I know that you don't want to touch me. It's a waste of time. So stop it." She sped up, her eyes going to her feet. "Stop looking at me."

Edward stopped walking, but Astrid kept her quick pace up. It wasn't until that moment that he realized that those lingering looks she always gave him he had returned. It made no sense, really. This crazy woman in front of him had more problems than he did, and he wouldn't be able to make her moods out from one minute to the next if she didn't dramatically display it. She was the one thing he didn't want.

"I can't." His voice was low, and full of an emotion that he couldn't place.

Stopping ahead of him, her back suddenly went ram-rod straight. It was the only indication she had heard him.

"I've got a family back at home, Astrid. I have a life. I have a girl I'm going to marry, Astrid, because I love her. I've always loved her, and she loves me back. But that love I feel for her is familial compared to this infernal whatever-it-is that I feel for you." He moved toward her, but she didn't move, her back still to him. "Looking at you is the last thing I want to do, trust me. You're selfish, Astrid. You're the most selfish person I've ever met. You're not a moral, sane human; you're not really very human at all, are you?"

"Shut up, Edward."

He was directly behind her, his breath falling on the back of her neck. "And _touch _you?" He ran his hands from the base of her neck, across her shoulders, and down her arm. "Touch you, Astrid?" He felt her shiver. "There are a hundred and one things I want to do to you, and touching you is on that list. This," he pushed her hair to the side and put his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling that same sweet smell of her and wanting to stay there, "this, Astrid, is also pretty high on the list, but not at the top." His lips met the amazingly soft skin of her neck as he spoke, her heartbeat fluttering erratically under his mouth.

"_None_ of these things, Astrid, are supposed to be on this list." He could barely control the hand that rose to reach around her shoulders and up to her face, feeling its smoothness and the familiar planes of it in a way that he had always wanted to. "There shouldn't even _be_ a list. I should be touching the woman I love like this, Astrid, not you."

"Then stop." She reached up to grab at the forearm that was now across her body. Her voice was weak, and her eyes were wet.

He froze as a tear hit his hand. "Like I said, Astrid: I can't." He forced her to look at him, his hand still resting on her face. "I can't stop looking at you. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop _wanting _you. I wish I could stop, Astrid, because this?" He took her in, gazing into those silver eyes that haunted his dreams, "This can never happen. This is impossible. This is crossing lines that I never intended to cross." His glare burned into her, jumping across her face rapidly as if he couldn't look at her fast enough. His gaze went to her lips.

She glared at him pleadingly, her eyes wet and her mouth trembling. She reached up to his face, her hands running across his cheeks and up his jaw. He growled low in his throat. Her hands went to his hair, which she grabbed fiercely. She was stoking a fire he was trying desperately to put out.

"We can't go back, after this."

He knew what she was talking about, and she pleaded with him silently with her eyes.

"Either we do something about this now, or we forget it; turn back and never look at each other again."

She said it weakly, as though she didn't want the latter to happen. She looked at him one last time, and, as though she couldn't take it anymore, pressed her lips to his.

She moaned low in her throat as he pried her mouth open with his hand, and he suddenly went into a frenzy. His tongue crashed with hers so violently, so desperately that he could hardly keep his legs from giving out. The only sound was their mingled breaths, loud and wanting.

Her legs came up around his hips, and he pushed her against the brick wall, his hands under her shirt, never realizing how much sheer _want _he had pent up about her. He reached up under her skirt blindly, ripping her underwear from her body with such force that they tore. Astrid fumbled with his zipper just as clumsily. The moment he had sprung forth from his pants, he thrust into her with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed. It was heaven. She shrieked in pleasure against his mouth, her fingernails ripping across the skin of his back under his shirt and her legs tightening around his waist. He pounded into her, all cares and angers forgotten in those few blissful moments.

All he could think was _Astrid_. He felt himself mouthing it against her neck, muffled by the sounds of her moans and fevered pants of breath. Bringing his head up, he gazed into her face, the moonlight falling on her features like some sort of beautiful blue lamp. Her teeth were bitten down hard on her bottom lip, her eyes glazed and her face in such bliss that he couldn't hold back any more. Just as he felt her tighten around him, he released, bracing himself on the brick wall and resting his forehead on hers. They were both sweating, even though it was freezing outside. He felt like he had run a mile.

He kissed her one last time, his hands on her face. He pulled out of her and set her on her feet, though she collapsed against him the minute she touched the ground. He yanked his pants up, righting them, and handing Astrid her underwear, which was now in two pieces. She laughed, and he didn't think he had ever enjoyed a sound more.

He looked at her. He just looked. Her large, satiated eyes, her swollen, beautiful lips. He couldn't stop looking. He realized then that he was still holding her face in his hands, and he ran his hands down the length of her hair, feeling the silkiness of it and reveling in the fact that it was his, even for just those few moments.

She was silent as she looked back at him, her hands still splayed on his back under his shirt. She didn't know what to think. She didn't _want _to think. She wanted to sit in this moment until everything else around them broke apart into nothingness and there would just be them.

Edward was the first to move, pressing his lips to the place where her neck and shoulder met, and took her hands from his back. He pulled back, taking her with him.

They said nothing as they walked down the alley, hands intertwined, and a line crossed that could never be uncrossed. They didn't mind at all, at that moment. They didn't mind anything.


	22. Antagonists, Mornings After, and Fire

Well, I busted my ass in the one pair of heels I own, so I'll be updating like no other these next few weeks. A broken ankle is good for some things. Exercise is not one of those things. * obligatory FUCK ME must be inserted here. So, now that we've got the sexual tension broken for now, what will happen to our lovely Edward and not-as-lovely Astrid? We'll find out! Onward~

I'm so fucking stupid.

Disclaimer: I don't own Edward Elric. Okay.

* * *

Antoine DuFort was very, very upset.

He was reclined in his office chair, the picture of ease and splendor, but the mouth behind his steepled fingers was hard and straight, and his eyes were burning.

The other members of the Authority had gotten themselves involved in his little revenge spree.

Antoine's job in his Clan, besides Patriarch, was an Iron Fist, or a law keeper and rule-enforcer. He was the best, and everyone knew he was the best. There were five Iron Fists, one from each Clan, and it was advisable to stay out of a different Clan's business. _Advisable_. Often times, if a crime carried over into a different jurisdiction, the Iron Fists involved would meet and discuss on how to proceed. Rarely was a crime severe enough in order to convene the entirety of the Fists and the other members of the Authority.

Apparently, the eradication of a group of traitors was severe enough.

Antoine used the long suspected plotting of the lower families of the Lightning and Earth clans against the Water clan as an excuse to attack; the meetings in secret, the obvious moment of the Earth clan members from the States to Serbia, and their political stands were all clues.

Antoine began to rub his temples. He could not understand why the Authority would concern themselves with such a menial task, but he supposed he would play along with whatever transgressions he may have committed and get on his merry way. There was no way they were aware of his true intentions.

He was murdered over ten years ago. He could still remember the taste of metal in his mouth moments before he was killed; the mirthless smile on the face of Nastus Blackwood. The man's poisons were envied by Hunters; they were made of natural things, straight out of the earth. Truly, Antoine should have known. But it didn't make the sting of betrayal lessen. And the shame of being brought back? Unforgivable.

He had only the taste of revenge when he put down the Necromancers nearly three years ago. Taking down the son of Blackwood, Hassun, and watching the blood drain out of his body was even more satisfying than he could have thought.

But there was one whom he missed; one he was never quite able to get.

Draga Ivanovic, Agent Ziv, or, as she went now, Astrid.

Now, though, now he would have the means to complete his revenge. She was a rouge Hunter, a Mancer, on the loose with the biggest mystery to ever come about in the seventy years that the Authority had been up and running: the man who had managed to come over through the Cloth without detection.

The Authority had many questions for this golden man, and a special plot of dirt for Draga Ivanovic.

He was not as worried about the upcoming meeting with the Authority. He had it all figured out.

The stone he rubbed in his hands went unnoticed.

"Monsieur?" The small voice came from the other side of his desk, and Antoine had to stand up in order to see the tiny girl.

"Oui, Agent Argus?"

"Agent Or has given an update on the whereabouts of Agent Ziv and the Target."

Antoine smiled thinly at the haunting young girl, her black ringlets framing her pale face in a fashion that made her look like a living doll. "Go on, Svetlana."

She looked down at her tiny patent leather shoe which was digging a little hole in his ten-thousand pound carpet, her hands clasped behind her back. Antoine's eyebrow began to twitch.

"Agent Or questioned a bouncer at a night club that was rumored to be housing Agent Ziv. The bouncer seemed to recognize a picture, but did not reveal her location. He was put down."

Antoine sneered. "Come when you have actual news, Agent Argus."

Her silver eyes pierced his, mercurial and liquid in their glare. "Of course, Monsieur."

Antoine pointed to the door, and she left through it, her lacy blue dress bouncing.

He never did like children.

* * *

"What does this mean?"

Astrid looked down at Edward, propped up on his elbow in bed and wearing nothing but a thin sheet. He was tracing circles on her palm with his rough finger, and Astrid smiled. She was sitting with her knees to her chin and her head angled towards his, nearly comatose with exhaustion and bliss. The sun was coming up in the window behind her, setting her bed-wild hair into a golden halo. Ed couldn't breathe.

"It means that every time I see circles, I'm going to think of you."

His eyes were gently chastising as he met hers. She knew what he meant.

"You know that burning in the back of your throat right before you're going to cry?" She looked down at her toes and wiggled them.

"No," he lied.

"I think this means we've made things harder on ourselves."

Edward looked down, taking each of her fingers and tracing her fingernails and the little scars on the tips of them. He brought a finger to his mouth and kissed it softly.

"That burning feeling comes when I think of leaving." She looked at him in the eye, no trace of humor there. They were a cool silver, twinkling in the near-dark. If she could ever look desperate, she did just then.

He looked from her eyes and back down to her slim hands, and knew exactly what she was talking about.

"But that won't happen, will it?" He flicked his eyes back up at her, a light smile on his face.

"No," she lied.

He pulled her down by her hand, and her cheek fell down to his chest, the dark golden hair there tickling her face. Darkness took over, but not before a final thought.

_Finally. _

It was a loaded word in Astrid's book.

* * *

Powder passed by the squat, two story building, Barhades trailing behind her. She stopped at the wisp of Energy she felt on the edge of her mind, and sauntered up the stairs, her stilettos clacking on the concrete steps. She stopped in front of the large man, his hands clasped in front of him. She only reached to about his chest, even in six inch heels.

"Tell me, did this man pass by?" She held up the picture of a long-haired, blonde man taken covertly in a tree.

The man simply looked down at her, his small eyes piercing hers.

"Alrighty, then." She put the picture back, pulling out another one she had crumpled in her pocket, worn with age and yellowed at the corners. It was of her and Ziv, their arms around each other, laughing. "Have you seen her?"

His eyes lingered too long on the photo.

"Ah, so you have." She put the photo back. "She's wanted for treason and kidnapping. It will be most helpful if you could pass on any information you may have."

He glared down at her, saying nothing.

Powder shrugged, and folded the photo back securely into her pocket, patting it. "Your failure to comply with the questioning of a Watcher has been duly noted," she recited, bored. She looked up and down the street, and, seeing that no one was in direct line of sight, sighed.

Her mouth opened wide, the tendons in her cheek straining as the corners of her mouth threatened to tear. Her dull eyes went blank, and column of fire shot out. The man was soon engulfed in flames, the smell of burning fat filling the air, the black smoke threatening to cling to everything it touched. Powder took a step back, her head tilting to the side as she watched the man writhe. The man's screams were weak and frightened. She was disappointed.

Pivoting on the tiny heel of her shoe, she clacked back down the stairs, her white hair bouncing with her.

"In the blink of an eye, Ziv. I'll be there in the blink of an eye."


	23. Unfolded

A.N.: Hey darlins! I'm currently working on another story which I hope you're all going to enjoy. It involves our favorite little brother…It's also going to be completely different from this one, because, well, Ed and Al are two totally different people, aren't they? Not going to tell you too much because it will give away the end of this story, but it's going to be super angsty. Mmmm, I know how you all love angst and sex. I love the M section of this website. muahahaah

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN ANYTHINGGGGGGGA HGLHGHOSBVUAIFJWLFEJD except for Astrid and Edward's penis okay thanks

* * *

A resounding smack flew through the apartment, followed by a grunt.

"Get up. I made breakfast."

Edward pushed his metal arm down on the pillow over his head, pulling the bed sheet up over his exposed bottom, which now had a very painful red handprint on it.

Astrid pulled on the neck of her t-shirt and yawned. The whole room smelled like baked goods and bacon, and soon Edward's mouth started to water. "It's afternoon, dumbass."

"All the more reason to get up, _dumbass_." She leaned against the door frame, a smirk on her face, arms crossed.

Edward threw his pillow on the ground, huffing as he gathered the sheet around his hips. He set his feet on the ground, wiggling his flesh and metal toes, looking at Astrid through half-lidded eyes. Her slim ankle was crossed over her other one as she stood there in only underwear and a t-shirt, her very long legs ending in the skimpiest pair of panties he had ever seen – not that he had seen many.

Little Ed stirred under the sheet, and Edward crossed his leg, resting his laced hands on his knee as he looked her up and down for the third time. He didn't think he was ever going to get used to her.

She raised one of her fine, black eyebrows, her smirk growing. "If we continue what we started last night and carried on through to the morning with, we're going to die of hunger. So get that cute little ass of yours up and eat the fucking food I cooked."

Ed's own eyebrow came up, and a smirk came to his face as well. "You didn't seem to be complaining twenty minutes ago. Or three hours ago."

Her eyes grew dark, and she bit her lip, a little motion that went unnoticed by her, but made Edward very aware that, food or no food, he would have taken her on the floor right where she stood.

"Food first." Her voice was strained, and she turned on her heel into the kitchen, her hips swaying in a way that would be forever burned into Edward's mind.

He sighed, standing up and padding to the kitchen, where Astrid was just sitting down with a cup of coffee. It was indeed afternoon, the sun hung high in the sky and streaming through the tiny window.

There was a plate stacked high with bacon and eggs, and a plate of pancakes right next to it. He smiled, rubbing his hands together.

Before he could sit down, she reached over quickly, grabbing the plates and putting them by her, a mischievous look in her eye. She looked down to the sheet wrapped tightly around his hips.

"Drop it, Alchemist."

He squinted his eyes at her, disbelieving what he was hearing.

"I'm not eating naked." He pulled the sheet tighter.

"We did other things naked, I'd like you to eat naked, too."

"Well, I'd like a lot of things, but that doesn't always mean I get what I want, does it?"

Her lips pulled into a smirk, and she picked up a piece of bacon, putting it under her nose and taking a big whiff, before stuffing the whole thing in her mouth. "Mmm," she muttered around it, making a face he was quite familiar with now.

His stomach grumbled audibly, and Astrid began laugh.

"Are you fucking serious?" It came out louder than he expected. Astrid wiggled her eyebrows and took another piece of bacon.

He hissed, throwing the sheet aside, trying his best not to look embarrassed.

Astrid cackled, her hands to her stomach as she leaned back in her chair. Edward grabbed the two plates, glaring at her. He hooked his foot around the two back legs of her chair, causing her to flip completely back.

With a crash and a shriek, Edward sat at the table with Astrid's flailing feet, eating away, a smile on his face that was genuine for the first time in a long, long time.

* * *

"Antoine DuFort, Patriarch of the Water Family, Iron Fist. Stand." The woman's commanding voice echoed through the room. Although he was terrified, he did just that, straightening his perfectly tailored suit and smoothing back his iron-grey hair.

"Draga Ivanovic lives. Is this fact?" Her voice was bored.

"It is. But we are currently—"

"Currently on her trail, yes, so we were told. And the Target?"

Antoine cleared his throat. "The Target lives, also."

There were the obvious sounds of whispers and murmurs from the other side of the room that was darkened to the point that they were unseen.

Silence followed.

"The Thule Society nearly destroyed the world seventy years ago, Antoine DuFort." Her voice was as close to strained as it could get.

"Yes, madam, I am aware."

"The Thule Society was able to procure a weapon of mass destruction, Antoine DuFort."

Antoine was confused, his hands beginning to shake. "Ma'am?"

"The weapon was not an object, Monsieur DuFort; it was a citizen from another world's power, a man by the name of Edward Elric. Is this name familiar to you?"

He felt a drop of sweat roll down the back of his neck. "It's the name of the Target, ma'am. But it certainly cannot be the same man. He would be well over ninety years old. This man is in his twenties."

There was silence yet again, nearly causing Antoine to faint.

"Seventy years ago, a hole through the Cloth was ripped wide open. Through this hole came three men, one of them being Edward Elric. This man contained tremendous power, as it was told, that could control any element he wished. However, this power was not usable in this world; thus, the Thule Society plot was foiled."

Antoine brought his shaking hands together behind his back, clasping his fingers.

"It was said that this man's power was not of strength, but of knowledge. The Great Knowledge, it seems, gained from some unknown force. This man is the only man who had gone into the Hereafter alone, and returned alive. He returned alive, DuFort, and came back with the Great Knowledge."

His mouth went dry.

"We have it under good authority that this man's power was taken away by the Hereafter. How, once again, we do not know. This power manifested itself into an object. An object which he must not obtain. An object which no one must touch."

With rising panic, he felt the weight in his left pocket grow. Had he put it in there?

"I believe you know what that object is, Antoine DuFort."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

Silence.

"Two years and six months ago, there was a failed attempt to resurrect Hassun Blackwood. Are you aware of this incident, Antoine DuFort?"

"Yes ma'am, of course. I was the one who dispatched of the traitor."

"You were then also aware, Antoine DuFort, that this resulted in a tear in the Cloth?"

A sound of fear escaped him. "No, no, no ma'am!"

"You are aware that the very man whose power could destroy this world was thrown back through the Cloth because of this transgression?"

His vision became blurry.

"You are aware that the manifestation of his power is in your possession, and should he come upon it and figure a way back through the Cloth, it would mean the destruction of every living Mancer on the face of this world?"

He shook his head, close to vomiting.

"Madam, please. I will destroy the stone, I will find Draga Ivanovic and make sure she doesn't reach her husband. It will not be traced back to us. They will both die."

"If this does not happen before the turn of this Century in ten days' time, we are all dead. It is written in Fate. Thaddeus 'Teddy' Rawland will tell them everything. His love for his wife extends even to treason. If they do find Thaddeus Rawland, we are all as good as dead. Fate must be rewritten, Antoine DuFort."

"Madam, your daughter will not reach her husband."

The sound of a hand slapping metal resounded the room, and Antoine could have killed himself, just then.

"Draga Ivanovic is no longer my daughter." The woman's voice grew loud and ragged. "She has betrayed us all for the last time. I have given you the task to destroy her, and I expect you to carry it out."

He bowed at his waist. He would carry out his duty; if not for the Headmistress of the Authority, but for his own revenge.

"It will be done, madam. It will be done."

* * *

A.N: I'll bet my money you didn't see that coming. More very soooon~


	24. Meetings, Tears, and Relieving Pressure

A.N.: Thanks again for your lovely comments, they keep my fingers a typin'!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or anything associated with it.

* * *

"Hello, Alex. Good to see you."

The man laced his fingers that rested on his desk, his severe blonde hair raked back from his strong face, a frown upon it. "I wish I could say the same, Bianca."

Powder smiled, her white teeth blank against her white face. "Ha. Right. Cause you're blind."

Alex frowned, his unseeing eyes looking off to the right of her. "No, because you're a bitch."

Her smile fell. "Hmm. Well. Have you seen Draga?"

Alex shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "No, I most definitely haven't."

"Should I say, have you met with _Astrid_? You little stickler, you." Her voice was patronizing, and the vile smirk on her face went unseen.

Alex leaned back in his chair, his mouth in a firm line, showing he derived no humor from her false entertainment. "Draga hasn't been here in almost ten years, Bianca. I assume she knows she's looking for her, so I very much doubt she would see me."

Powder's eye began to twitch. "On the contrary, I think this would be the first place she would go. I know if I were her, I would."

"Well, you're not her, are you Bianca?" A smile picked at the side of his mouth, and he crossed one leg over the other. "Draga always got it right, didn't she? Always a little ahead of you. Seems that way still."

She felt the sizzle of Drip on her fingertips, burning her down to the quick. Smoke began to pour out of her mouth.

"First in school, first in Academy, always the best at her lessons. She had Hassun completely. Chosen first by the Authority to become a Hunter, even though she committed the most heinous crime in the history of the Authority's upbringing. And you are, what now? A Watcher?" Alex's smile grew a bit wider. "Hell, even when you both were dead, they managed to bring her back first."

Powder's hand slammed on his desk, the thick red-orange liquid falling from her fingers, scorching his desk. "If she's been here, Alex, I'll know."

His smile never wavered. "I'm sure you will. Watcher."

The sound of her heels clacking furiously down the hall let Alex relax, slumping back into his chair. He reached for the receiver of his phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Send them in."

* * *

Powder sat on the bench, her eyes red and puffy, scrubbing furiously at them. Her cigarette vibrated in her hand as she shook her knee, ash falling from it and blowing in the wind. Her lower lip trembled as a few more tears escaped her eyes.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out the old picture. Astrid had her arm around Powder, huge grins on both of their faces. Astrid had her tongue sticking out, their faces pressed close to each other.

"_If you need me, Bianca, I'll be there in the blink of an eye." Her nose wrinkled as she smiled, her grey eyes lighting up. _

_Bianca smiled widely. "We can't go by our real names anymore, Draga. Codenames, remember?" _

_Draga stood up, her fingers shaped like a gun, and pointed them at Bianca. "Freeze, Or!"_

_Bianca put her hands up playfully, "But Ziv, I'm on your side." _

Powder squashed the memory down and took another drag off of her cigarette.

She may have beaten her at every turn so far, but not anymore.

"In the blink of an eye, you bitch. In the blink of an eye."

* * *

Astrid and Edward were sitting in the waiting room, an awkward silence filling the air as the secretary watched them.

Edward shuffled farther down in his seat, his arms crossed and his legs spread wide. Astrid had her back ramrod straight, her legs crossed, and was picking at her nails. She looked at the door from time to time, wondering if the white flash of a person that went by it a few moments ago was someone she knew.

She shook her head.

She felt a hand crawl up her thigh, and she looked pointedly at the golden hand, his long fingers massaging her flesh of her leg. She raised an eyebrow, feeling a familiar warmth crawl up her lower belly, and looked at Edward.

"Can I help you?" She looked at his hand.

"Are you okay?" He took in the line between her eyebrows, and her stressed stance.

She nodded, her words trapped in her throat. His hand fell from her leg. She looked at him, and he stood up, his hands in his pockets. He began to pace, his stance slouching and watchful as he walked in front of her, _stomp, clunk, stomp, clunk, _his automail leg clinking as he moved about. He towered above her, making the harsh lines of his bone structure even more pronounced, his wide shoulders blocking the light from the dingy ceiling fan.

She reached out her hand, grabbing his pant leg, a vein in her head throbbing.

"Would you fucking stop that?" She glared up at him, letting go of his pants.

He looked down at her, a frown marring his brow.

Leaning down, his hands on his knees, he brought his face close to hers, his breath falling on her face. The smell of mint and him took over her senses, and she forgot what breathing was.

"You sure you're okay?"

The ringing of a telephone caused them both to snap out of it.

"Yes, sir, I'll send them both in now."

The woman looked at the both of them pointedly, and Astrid stood, brushing imaginary dust off of her pants. She motioned at Edward to follow her, and she began to walk down the hall. Her back hurt from sitting in the same position for twenty minutes.

Just before she raised her hand to the door to knock, she felt Edward grab her from behind, his hands encircling her waist, and turning her toward him. His hand went into her hair, pulling her mouth to his. She sighed, her arms going around his neck.

He pulled back, his eyebrow raised. _You're okay now? _He didn't need to say anything.

She smiled.

Funnily enough, she was okay just then.

She knocked.


	25. The Breakdown

A.N.: On a roll! I told you I would be; I have nothing to do with this fucking broken ankle. Everything is starting to come together now, muahahaha.

Disclaimer: Still don't own shit

* * *

"Hello, Alex. It's good to see you!" Astrid pointed to the chair for Edward, which he sat down in. He sunk into the plush leather, a scowl on his face.

"I'm getting a distinctive sense of déjà vu." He stood up, looking past Astrid, a smile wide on his face. Edward guessed, if he was a girl, he would find him handsome. His light blonde hair was fixed back from his face, revealing a wide, clear forehead. His nose was straight, his mouth firm. It peeved Edward. At least he was blind. He stared triumphantly into the clouded blue eyes, a smirk on his face.

Astrid brought him into a fierce hug. He returned it, a look of relief mixed with something else on his face.

"What do you mean?" She pulled back, a smile on her face.

Alex shook his head, gesturing to the seat on the other side of the desk. "You won't guess who was in here not but ten minutes ago."

Astrid walked back around the desk, sitting in the chair next to Edward. The man gestured to Edward, his eyes burning directly into his, a strange yellow light dancing in his blind eyes. "Who is this?"

"Why don't you ask me that?" Edward's voice came out harsh, his English guttural and almost unintelligible. Astrid punched him in the arm, her fingers cracking as she hit the metal. She muttered some very filthy words under her breath as she massaged her hand.

Alex laced his fingers together, placing them on the desk in front of him. His face was emotionless. "Who are you?"

"Who are _you_, old man?"

"Edward! What the fuck?" She shoved him with her other hand this time, causing him to nearly flip out of his chair.

Alex put his hand up, a calm expression on his face. "My name is Aleksander Kovak. I am Astrid's dear friend. Nothing more. Jealous lover, Astrid?"

Edward's face grew red, and he slunk down lower in his chair, flicking his eyes to Astrid, who had was glaring at him furiously. Her face softened when she looked to Alex.

"Edward Elric. We're wondering if-"

Alex hissed as he sucked in his breath, his teeth bared. "And you bring him here? Are you fucking insane?"

Astrid leaned back in shock, looking from Edward and back to him. "Well, I'm actually looking for Teddy, but…"

"Your husband is staying in his flat in Holland Park. Now get out of here."

Astrid's face fell. "What is wrong with you?"

He stood up, his finger pointing directly at her. "I am the Patriarch of the Air Family. An Iron Fist. _Next in line to take up the Authority High Seat. _And you bring our one true enemy _here._ _Here, _Draga! You fool. Bianca was in here not but ten minutes ago, looking for you. No doubt they are on to you both. They'll bring the Dogs, believe me."

Astrid tensed up and stood, her blood running cold. "What is she doing with a Hound? She's a Watcher, not a Hunter."

Alex's face transformed into a snarl, his breath coming out in pants. "Does it matter, Draga? Does it really matter? We're doomed. I am the last Seer of our kind after the massacre. When I'm gone, we're done. Our faction is _DONE._" His hand sliced through the air, a buffet of wind knocking her violently back into her chair. "Necromancy will become a dead art, once they find me out. Dead, Draga!" He ran a shaking hand down his face. "You've brought the Death Walker here, Draga, and you don't even realize it."

"What's he saying?" Ed mumbled, his face blank, as if he was going to take him on.

Astrid simply looked at the ground, her heart in her throat, panic rising. She got up, grabbing Edward's wrist and running as fast as she could, throwing the door open. She pounded down the hallway, sobs escaping her throat. Edward fought to keep up, his automail creaking with every jarring step.

"Fucking hell, Edward. Fucking hell." Her face was contorted in panic, her nostrils flared as she ran.

"What?" He was deeply concerned by the fear he saw in her eyes. He had never seen her like that.

"Why didn't you—" She sobbed again, her breath coming in short pants. Her eyes were wide, looking rapidly from side to side as she leapt down the stairs, two at a time.

Edward tried to stop her, pulling her arm as hard as he could, she pulled against him, her boots skidding on the carpet. "Astrid—Astrid, stop!"

"_We can't stop!_" Her voice cracked, and she threw his arm down. Her eyes were huge, her pupils dilated. "Why didn't you tell me?" Her hands went to her hair, pulling at the roots as she paced back and forth.

"Tell you what, Astrid?" He held her by her shoulders.

"That you were the one I brought over, you idiot. That you were the toll?" She sobbed again, beginning to hyperventilate.

"Toll?" He looked at her, his eyebrows drawn together as he worked to figure this out in his mind. He had only heard maybe three words out of that entire altercation. Dead, dead, and dead.

She started to tremble, curling up into a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth.

He bent down to his knee. "Astrid, what's going on?"

She looked at him, her eyes blank. "My name's not Astrid, Edward."

He leaned back, confused.

"It's my fault you're here, Edward." She rubbed her nose. "I brought a soul over, but it wasn't Hassun's." She began to laugh maniacally, still rocking back and forth.

He scooped her up, running down the rest of the stairs. He hailed a cab, which came screeching to a stop. He muttered out the address, and the man looked back at the both of them with a suspicious look in his eye.

"Go!"

The man hit the accelerator.


	26. The Grand Reveal of a Horrific Truth

A.N.: Well, my friends, our story is starting to speed up quite quickly. This is a tiny chapter, but probably the most important for our dear plot development. Enjoy~

Disclaimer: i don't own anything

* * *

Astrid was sitting on their bed, her knees up under her chin, silent.

Edward paced back and forth, his hands on his hips, careful not to look at her.

"Explain this to me in layman's terms." His voice was low, his eyes scanning the room.

She looked up at him, her head in her hands. The frenzied expression she had was gone, and back was the unbreakable Astrid, her silver eyes a blank, dull grey. Edward looked away from her, unable to meet those eyes he had seen such passion in.

"First and foremost, I didn't lie to you." She seemed to burn this into his mind with her eyes, as if this were the only thing that mattered.

He threw his hands up. "The hell you didn't, Astrid! Or Dragon, or whatever your name is. This is the least of our worries."

She closed her eyes, rubbing them. "Draga is the name I was born with." She opened her eyes again, looking at him seriously. "Look at me, for fucks sakes."

He turned his head back to her, a scowl on his face.

"I was cast out of the family after the incident two and a half years ago. Taken from me was my freedom, and the name my mother gave me at birth. So, Astrid is my name now. Technically."

Edward sighed, his fingers tightening on his hips. "You said I could learn how to wield."

She started at the change in subject.

"Apparently, whatever happened in there meant trouble, and someone must be after us. So, can you teach me? You know, so we don't die." He looked at her gravely, the angry expression still welded on his face.

She let out a single bark of laughter. "You're joking. You're mocking me, surely." She looked at him incredulously.

He threw the confusion right back at her.

"You expect _me _to teach to teach _you_?" She stood up, rounding on him. "Do you even know who you are?"

Edward got a sense of déjà vu. "I think I asked you that once."

She ignored him. "You told me everything, surely," her tone was sarcastic. "You told me how you obtained the Great Knowledge. Oh, wait!" She threw her hands up in the air, "you didn't!"

He stilled for a moment. "How did you know that?" His voice was small and quiet.

Her grin was vile. "It should have hit me the moment you told me of how you were able to bring your brother back and affix his soul without dying. Or how _any _of what you told me was possible, without being what you are."

"And what am I, Astrid?" He was almost too quiet for her to hear.

She shook her head, ignoring him again. "I'm not without blame. I'm the one who started it all, in truth. I was sick enough to bring back a perished soul, and what the Hereafter threw back at me wasn't a perished soul, but a tortured one. And I, of course, was drawn to it."

Shaking, she collapsed against the bed frame, her legs stretched out before her. "_The Deathwalker: A tortured soul from the dark underbelly of Hereafter; he who has seen all with his Mind's Eye. He who tricked the Truth for his Great Knowledge. He who would surely take what is his, in spite of all costs. His power, for ours. And he would surely choose his, when reunited with a like soul. It is the Enabler. When the Deathwalker is Enabled, all is lost'._ The old bitch of an Oracle was right, in the end." She recited it as though it were burned into her mind.

He knelt by her, his hand on her shoulder. "The old woman at the shop, you mean? Now you're speaking gibberish. What the hell are you saying?"

She stared at her feet, her eyes defeated and blank. "I've done the worst possible thing I could've."

He leaned in closer. "What, Astrid?"

Her eyes met his. "I've become the Enabler, Edward." She raised a hand to his face, her thumb running along his bottom lip. "We're going to die."

Edward shook his head, not understanding. "We will stop Antoine, Astrid. He couldn't have found…whatever it is…yet."

She started to laugh, tears falling from her eyes. "It's not Antoine who needs to die, Edward."

He stood back from her.

"It's you."


	27. The Best of Times and the Worst of Times

A.N.: I'm back everyone! Texas was fun, but now I must return for school. :D Let's get this story arc moving with a little bit of character development, shall we?

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of its characters.

* * *

_Zlatibor, Serbia_

_1977_

Draga was not a peaceful child. She was, however, a quiet child.

"Draga, come with mother." The tall woman outstretched her hand towards her, her smile hidden by the stark light of the setting sun from behind her head, her massive black curls creating a halo. Draga did not smile, or reach for her hand. She stood there, her small feet turned in on themselves, looking down at them.

"I will not. I want to play more." Her voice was small, her mother almost didn't hear her. A slap on the face told that she did. Tears did not well in her eyes, even as the abused cheek throbbed. Most four year old children had an inborn sense to not upset their mothers. Draga was not born with such a virtue.

"If you do not come with mother, the Deathwalker will get you, come nighttime."

_Thick, calloused hands, not practiced but certainly pleasing. Eyes flashed gold. He had both of her wrists clasped in one of those hands, fingers interlocked with the bedpost. He smiled as he dipped his head between her breasts. Astrid gasped._

Draga began to pout, but panic began to rise in her chest. She did not want to be around when the Deathwalker came.

"Are you coming, Draga?" The man stood off into the distance, staring at her mother lovingly. Her mother looked back at him, her smile soft.

Her mother pushed on her back, sending her to the man. She felt tingles throughout her body as she came closer to him, and then she was soaring. Guiding with his hands, he set her gliding through the air, just above his head. She closed her eyes against the light, the wind holding her like a friend as her mother's friend wielded her through the air like a bird. Grinning, she opened her eyes, looking down at the man. His severe blonde hair glinted in the sunlight, and he grabbed her from the empty air. His eyes were clear and blue.

"Come, Alex. We must get back before the rest arrive." Her mother placed a hand on Alex's shoulder, her smile dark.

He raised an eyebrow, setting Draga on his hip. "I suppose we should, Tasha." He looked back up to the girl. "Can't keep Uncle Antoine waiting."

Draga's little nose upturned in a scowl. "He's not my real uncle."

Alex smiled at her, clucking her chin. "Well, we should still get back. You have your dance lessons with Bianca."

Draga began to giggle at the thought of her dance lessons. Bianca was her best friend, even though she liked dancing more than Draga did. She got upset when Draga tried to play during dance lessons.

Her mother came next to the both of them, her hand smoothing her child's hair, all memory of her resistance forgotten.

* * *

"Astrid?" Edward touched her on the shoulder, which was turned away from him on the bed. "Are you awake?"

She kept her eyes closed, but grunted in response. Edward frowned. "Can we talk about what you said last night? You weren't making any fucking sense."

The events of yesterday came crashing back on Astrid. The panic set in again, setting her head to running a mile a minute. She shook it, rolling out of bed. Her shoes were still on, along with her jacket. She kicked off on and shrugged out the other. Gold light streamed in through the window, hitting her eyes with such force that she sucked in her breath audibly. Her bare toes wiggled on the carpet, and her back was hunched.

Edward remained quiet. He was quiet, when it mattered. Astrid would have to make sure that he was quiet forever, soon. She rubbed her nose.

"Never mind, Edward." She rolled her shoulders, standing up. Padding towards the window, she even hummed a tune. It kept the bile from rising in her throat.

"What the hell do you mean, '_never mind'_? You freaked out yesterday from whatever that blonde bastard said, and, and…" He frowned, spitting out the next words, "you told me you wanted me dead."

Astrid was able to roll her eyes, even as her throat closed up at the thought of having to kill him. "Oh, calm your ass down, would you? I was spouting bullshit, and I took something Alex said too seriously. Chalk it down to not getting much sleep." She turned and winked at him, before shutting the curtains. "We'll need to speak to Teddy about this new problem Alex has brought up."

She padded back to the bed, flopping down on her stomach next to him. She was even able to throw a seductive smile on. "Anyway, it seems our pursuers are hot on our tails, particularly one whom we must worry about." She traced a finger from his strong jaw, down the center of his chest. His eyes began to glow like coals.

"I only have one tail to worry about, right now." His voice was breathless and heavy. _Men_, she thought. _Give them an inch, they'll turn around and stick all of theirs inside you. _

"You just have one thing on the mind ever, don't you?" She smirked, straddling him. His hands slid up her thighs, and he smiled.

"You're rubbing off on me."

"What, I'm not naked yet." Her voice was dry. He chuckled, rolling over on top of her. His hands went to her hair, where he smoothed an unruly curl from her forehead.

The rough skin of his hands on her smooth face was a sensation she was going to miss, when he was gone. When she killed him.

She pushed her face into the pillow, trying her best to hide her rapidly paling color.

"_Sure, Draga, the Deathwalker is real." _

Edward turned her face back to him, the line between his eyebrows present again. "Something's not right. Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded, steeling herself for a lie. "I'm just a little nervous about seeing Teddy again. It's been a few years."

He frowned. "You don't have to be scared about anything, when I'm around."

"_The Oracle said he came once, and he'll come again. But you shouldn't worry. Someone will save us, and kill the Deathwalker. The Oracle said so. So come out from under the covers. You don't have to be scared anymore."_

Swallowing hard, she shoved his shoulder. "Shut the fuck up, I'm not scared of that idiot."

"He's not the one who killed you?"

The teasing smile fell from her face, and her chest began to burn. "I told you, we don't fucking talk about that."

Edward sighed heavily, raising an eyebrow at her. "So, did he? Is that why you want me to learn how to learn your Alchemy and take him down?"

She gritted her teeth.

"Come on, Astrid, there has to be a reason why you're taking such great measures to protect yourself against him."

Her eyes burned into his, trying her best not to hit him in his nose.

Edward must have sensed her violent intentions, because he put his hands up in defeat. "Fine, okay. We don't talk about that now."

"Or ever." Her voice was hard.

"Or _ever. _Okay." He leaned back down to her, kissing her neck. She shoved him away so forcefully, he was knocked off of the bed, a resounding _thunk _coming from his bum as he hit the floor.

"What the—" He sat on the floor, confusion causing his brow to furrow.

Astrid leapt out of bed, pulling her heavy boots and jacket back on as she stomped out.

"Wha—Astrid?" He stumbled after her, the bed sheet getting caught in his legs. He tripped, sprawling out on the floor.

"Fuck you, Elric. I'll be back when I don't want to kill you."

"Come on, Astrid, don't be like that." He was genuinely concerned, his hands balled up into fists. "I just want you to be safe, is all." His eyes were fierce, and his mouth was set into a grim line.

She hissed at him, grabbing her knotted, messy hair into some semblance of a ball at the back of her head. She had to get out of there. She couldn't care about the fact that he cared. She couldn't let that little space under her left ribs hop when he looked at her like that. "I repeat: fuck you, Elric."

"I thought you were going to, what the hell happened?!"

Shaking her head, she tied the last lace on her boot. "I'm going out. Tell me what you need from the shop before I kill you for real."

He sighed, his head hitting the floor. "Fine. We need milk."

"You don't even fucking like milk, you idiot." Her words were vicious as she rummaged around in Edward's wallet, pulling out a few pounds.

"Fine, bitch, _you _need milk."

Her eyes narrowed. "Milk. Noted. Anything else, oh nosey bastard?"

"An attitude adjustment? Also something you may need."

"Again, Elric. Fuck you." She slammed the door behind her, leaving a thoroughly puzzled Edward Elric in her wake.

"Be careful!" His muffled shout was still heard by her, and it was all she could do to swallow back her sob.


	28. A Peek at Home and Death Itself is Pale

A.N.: We get to see our dear Alphonse. Got the bones for this story finished, now to write up the chapters! There'll be a new Alphonse-centered story coming up within a few days after this one gets completed. Still have a while to go though, friends, stick it out with me! Also, we find out just who Antoine's creepy little sidekick is. Hope you enjoy~!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or its characters.

* * *

"Alphonse, you know we're doing all we can to find your brother."

Alphonse, in an uncharacteristic burst of anger, threw his hands in the air. "It's not enough, Mustang!"

The man laced his fingers together and put them on his desk. "You need to calm down, Elric. Your brother is a big boy. He can handle himself."

"We don't know that!" His voice became small, worried. Mustang's eyes closed at the pain he heard in his voice. He suddenly missed being blind, and cursed that thought immediately.

Alphonse sat down in the padded leather chair in front of the Fuhrer's desk. His hands curled into fists on the armrest, but not before Mustang picked up on the subtle shaking of his fingers. Mustang sighed, his own fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. He didn't know what to make of it, really. Two weeks ago, Alphonse came crashing in, eyes wild and step panicked.

"_He's gone, Mustang, he's gone." _

He repeated that relentlessly between sobs before collapsing on the floor in the lobby. He was dirty and dehydrated, having walked for days without stopping. After a rushed account as to how he got there, Mustang was informed that the car he was driving somewhere in the north of Aerugo had flipped when their car seemed to pass through a huge tear in nothing. Alphonse attempted to skid to a halt which only succeeded in throwing his brother through the tear. He was knocked unconscious in the crash, and when he woke up, the tear and his brother were gone. He had traveled by foot and hitched rides all the way back to Central, a trip that took three grueling days.

"Where is your father, Alphonse?"

Alphonse stared wide-eyed at him, shaking his head. "He's in Xing doing research on another artifact that was uncovered, why does this matter? He's been informed."

Mustang's brain clicked. "What artifact were you and Edward searching for before he disappeared?"

Al's mouth moved wordlessly for a moment, his eyes blank as he filtered information. His eyes cleared and he looked up at Mustang, both of their thoughts in sync. "The Aerugan Madstone."

"Alphonse, it's imperative that you tell me what it is." Mustang leaned forward, his elbows braced.

His eyes went to the floor, moving rapidly from side to side as the thought back. "The Aerugan Madstone, or simply the Stone, a small, round, white stone that gives off a violet glow. Turns a man mad by just looking at it for too long. Contact with the Stone increases this effect." His hands went to his overly long hair, his fingers scrubbing through it. "It went missing last month when it was stolen from the State Museum." His head snapped up. "We were combing the countryside near its last known location. We must have ran over it, or did something to ignite its effects…it must have another effect we don't know of."

"A portal."

"A portal."

They answered it together. Mustang leapt from his seat, pulling Alphonse by the scruff of his neck with him as he ran out the door.

"Alphonse, when did this Stone first come about?"

"The first record of its existence was around the same time as the final battle with the Homunculi…" He was quiet as he thought, and Mustang had to drag him on. "…do you think they're connected, somehow?"

Mustang looked back at him. "The Homunculi? No, definitely not, they've been eradicated. I mean between the portal Ed went through and the Gate." He rushed through hall, other officers shoving aside with a shocked bow and a muttered 'Fuhrer'. Mustang ignored them, his legs pumping even faster as the door toward the end came into view. He shoved Alphonse in first, his hand on his back. It was the cafeteria, and Riza was there with a tray of food, her face grave.

"Eat something, Al. You're famished."

Alphonse looked from , baffled. "I can't eat now, Mustang. My brother is missing. There's no time for food."

Mustang shook his head. "You're going to need food for the trip we're taking." Alphonse was still dumbfounded. "I'll come back when I know when the train for Aerugo is leaving."

* * *

Powder sometimes slid down walls and bit her fingers in order to hold back sobs. Sometimes she curled her knees up under her chin and let panic take her for a while. Death did that to a person. Her white hair shook as she did, the thick locks falling around her face like fingers, reaching for her face. Her pale eyes stared at something only she could see, and her white face was contorted in pain. The cold crept up from her lower back as slow as the burn on a cigarette.

In a frenzy, she kicked her heels off, her pants shortly after that. She made sure her legs were free; that nothing could hold them together. Shaking violently, she reached one hand gingerly down to her toes to make sure she could still feel them. She didn't remember much, but she remembered that the feeling in her toes were the first to go. Blood doesn't flow to the parts that don't need it when there's no more oxygen. That's what she thought of as she died; that was about a second before she sucked in her first lung-full of water. Everything after that was swirling, dark grey and burning throat and lungs.

Just before she died, she felt her back settle softly onto the seabed, the sand puffing up where she landed. She took in the last glimpse of the sunlight filtering through the water in grey waves, and she was flying down a dark tunnel, towards that same light.

Then the glorious peace of death.

And hatred. That's what she remembered.

A scarred hand, ripping her hand off of the bar. Long, curly black hair that caught the wind as Powder fell. A smirk as her friend fell into her water, legs bound.

Ziv, her comrade. Draga Ivanovic, her best friend. Like sisters, they were.

She doubted a real sister would have killed her. Although, the same could not have been said for Draga's real sister.

Powder shrugged, gathering her hands tightly together. She and Svetlana would have their revenge, yet. She would kill Draga right back, because now, it was allowed.

She smiled at the look on Antoine DuFort's face when he came back from the Authority meeting. Draga's mother must have torn into him. She hated her daughter. She raised her first child back from the dead, a disgusting offense, only for her to be brought to the light as a part of the very scum who raised the dead a few years later. This placed a heavy burden on the High Seat's shoulders; she publicly cast her daughter off shortly after that.

Her second daughter was not so lucky. The eight-year-old was Antoine DuFort's right hand man, poor little Svetlana. The girl was born ruthless, though. Powder couldn't remember her ever crying. She imagined that she didn't; the girl was too hollow for that.

Powder guessed that she would have been hollow, too, if she'd been born and raised for the sole purpose of killing her own sister.

Those heartless, blue little eyes came back to the forefront of her mind. Poor kid, really. Draga had ruined so many lives, all at the expense of her own.

Powder was okay with that, though. Everyone hated Draga for the taboo she had committed; but that wasn't enough. Karma would be a bitch, and Powder would make sure of it. Karma would burn slow for Draga, but it would burn hot.

Powder simply laughed.

* * *

A.N.: So much is coming together now, friends! Next chapter should be up sooooon~


	29. Visitations and Reconciling Over Onions

A.N.: Longest chapter yet, I think. Nothing much to say, but onward! Read and review for me, lovelies!

Disclaimer: still don't own shit.

* * *

"Svetlana, my dear."

She sniffed, her tiny head poking around the corner. "Yes, Sir?"

"Darling, I told you to call me Uncle." His voice was cloyingly sweet and his thin mouth was curled into a smile.

She blinked, uncomprehending. "You are not my Uncle."

The familiar phrase made his head spin, and he frowned. "You shouldn't say such things, young lady."

"Why?" Her facial expression didn't change, but she walked fully into the room. "You are not."

Antoine's eyebrow began to twitch. His hand reached into his pocket, where he stroked his thumb along the smooth surface of the rock. He knew he should hand it over to the Authority. But he couldn't. Not that he wouldn't…He simply couldn't. He wouldn't allow it to leave his pocket, anymore.

"Do you know the whereabouts of Agent Ziv?"

The girl twisted her hands behind her back. "Unknown at this time, sir."

Antoine breathed heavily out his nose. He massaged the stone once more, before pulling away as though it burned him. "Well, make it known. And Thaddeus Rawland?"

"We have Agents at his home, now. She has not been there, but she will go to him soon. We tainted the water. He'll die slowly, but he will die before she finds him."

"Good. You will go and observe."

Svetlana nodded, and turned to walk out the door.

"Ah, Svetlana?" She craned her neck towards him.

He remained stoic, only the twitching of his upper lip giving away his disgust. "You will do as we practiced when she is found."

The girl nodded, not an expression to be seen on her doll-like face. "My sister will die."

The man nodded back, a vile smirk spreading on his face. The day of reckoning was coming soon for Draga Ivanovic. She would pay for her transgressions against her people and family. Her, three others, and Aleksander Kovak.

Of course, Antoine could not possibly prove that Kovak was a Necromancer. He was impeccable; not a single loose end or unexplained absence in the twenty years he had been an Iron Fist. He was Right-Hand to the High Seat. But Antoine could sense a darkness in him that others were ignorant to. His slick appearance and handsome face disguised a disgusting and vile creature.

Antoine had seen him at the Massacre in Serbia. He met those unseeing eyes as he struck down many of his own. It hit him, then: _The Seer. He is blind in this world, but not in the Hereafter. He is the eyes, and the navigator of the River. Without him, the spirit will not be found, and the Wader would be lost to the Hereafter for eternity, and have disastrous consequences for all involved. He must be an Air wielder._

Ancient words from an ancient book, written thousands of years ago. A book of horror and abominations; the story of a cult gone unchecked for thousands of years, until their meddling in the Cloth caused it to pill up and tear seventy years ago. A genocide ensued; a necessary genocide. It was unnatural for dead to rise again. Necromancers were thought extinct, until a minor investigation was ordered on Hassun Blackwood. Of course, none of the Authority was aware of Antoine's murder many years before by the boy's father and his filthy poisons. However, Antoine would never forget. He found reason to tail the last of the Blackwoods, and took it.

The boy was found to be flying to Serbia a bit too often in past years; often two to three times a month. This, of course, was very strange, as the Earth and Lightning families were in a feud that neither remembered how it began. Serbia was Lightning territory; Blackwood shouldn't have even been able to cross its borders. But he did; a total of 56 times in his life, Antoine found out as he dug deeper.

It was all kept very under-wraps, but it didn't take long for him to find other names, some very prestigious, from other families that all crossed Serbia's borders one way or another. On a hunch, Antoine tracked Hassun. Sure enough, he led them to the Ivanovic winter home. An attack ensued. Most died; over thirty in total. The most that had been seen since the Ripping of the Cloth. The High Seat was put under review for a very long time, before her daughter was found to be a member of the hideous cult. Antoine found his mouth curling in a smile even as he thought of it.

Now, he had good reason to find and kill at least one of the Necromancers that got away. He just needed Kovak, and the three unknown others who had escaped the massacre.

But, he must be content with having the head of Draga Ivanovic. He simply must be. He could not out another fellow Iron Fist. It would be suicide. Ivanovic would have to satiate his appetite.

He chuckled to himself. She would be saying uncle before long.

* * *

"Darling?" Astrid's voice was quiet as she peeked her head into the familiar Holland Park Apartment. Her English was rusty, she had been so used to speaking German these past few weeks. She shook the golden eyes out of her head, and focused her attention on the room. A dark brown coffee stain still lingered on the kitchen wall from all those years ago, a remnant of her anger. She sighed. She wished it didn't have to be like this.

The _swish-clunk _of Teddy's footsteps came from the other room. He appeared in the door frame of the living room, his one eye wide. "Baby?" His set his glass of water down on the kitchen counter, walking slowly toward her.

She smiled sadly. "Can I come in?"

Teddy ran, or rather walked as fast as he possibly could, his good arm swung wide as he grabbed her, pulling her close. The scar tissue of his cheek pressed against her smooth one, and she sighed, grasping him tightly. He kissed her cheeks, her closed eyes, and her lips. She returned them, her heart filling with sadness. So much for this being easy.

"Teddy, do you know why I'm here?"

He pulled back, the good side of his mouth twisted into a gleeful smile. He looked at her hopefully. "You're coming home?"

Astrid smiled, that crooked, awful smile of his still tugged at her ribs. "Yeah, I am."

He laughed, pulling her to him again. She pushed back gently, smiling. "Honey, could we sit and talk for a minute?"

"Anything, my star." His smile even pulled at the torn side of his mouth, the scar tissue there stretching. She hoped he meant what he just said.

They both sat at the kitchen table, a motion that was so familiar to her that she almost reached for the sugar in the middle of the table to put in her invisible coffee.

"I was hoping you could tell me about Promises of Shamballa." Her voice was quiet and pleading.

Teddy's one eyebrow twitched and he frowned. "It is classified information, but…" His breath fell on her face, and it smelled slightly metallic. They had been here already.

"…you could always tell me anything." She rushed her words, insistence in her tone.

Teddy shrugged his shoulders. "The Oracle owned it. Earth family. She was recently executed for harboring an enemy of the Authority."

Astrid twitched, hopefully hiding her smile, and nodded. "Go on. They were looking for an object, right?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, word was that the Prophecy was coming to pass."

"You mean of the Deathwalker?"

Teddy jerked at the name, his face forming into a scowl. "Why do you need to know this, Astrid? I haven't received any new information in a week. It's like they've cut me off from the Authority Records."

She decided to change her strategy. She looked at the burns along his face, his gnarled hand. She stroked his face, looking into his eye. "You tried to save me, all those years ago."

He shifted again, looking bashfully down at the table. "I didn't want you to die. You did anyway. I wasn't of much use."

She kissed his cheek, the shiny scars smooth on her lips. "It was the thought that counted. I died happy," she lied. Betrayal is never a happy thing. "I could kill Powder for what she did to you."

Teddy looked back up at her, his eyes dark. He leaned in, kissing her soundly on the mouth. She patted his face, leaning back. "Now, about those records."

He nodded. "She was in possession of a strange stone that had been missing for nearly seventy years, a product of the Ripping. It was said that it was the embodiment of the Great Knowledge. I thought it was bullshit, to be honest."

"What is the story behind it?"

Teddy shrugged. "I don't see why this is so important. Can't we just talk about what you've been up to? Where you've been?"

Astrid closed her eyes, tamping down her rage. "Thaddeus, please."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Like I said, it was supposed to be the Great Knowledge, brought over by the Deathwalker. He somehow formed with it; used it to channel its energy source. It _was _its energy source. Anyone who was able to form with it could harness its power."

"Who could form with it?" She leaned in, hanging on his words.

He looked at her questioningly. "Only the Deathwalker, and the Enabler."

Her breath came out in a huff. "Why the Enabler? I thought the Enabler must die?"

He shook his head. "Yes, the Enabler will die. But, the Enabler, although the reason and cause for the Deathwalker's return, is also the savior of all Mancer and citizen kind."

"How so?" Her breath came in short pants, her fear rising.

"Come on, Draga," he pleaded with her.

"_How so?" _Astrid's voice was low, and dangerous.

Teddy sighed again. "The Enabler and Deathwalker are kindred souls. The Enabler will somehow obtain the Great Knowledge and find a way to fuse with it. A final battle between the Enabler and the Deathwalker will ensue. The Enabler will die in this battle, but the Great Knowledge will die with it. The Deathwalker cannot use it to rip open the Cloth again."

"Why?" The single word revealed so much grief, that Teddy did a double take at her.

"Why? Because if the Cloth is ripped any wider, this world and everyone in it will be swallowed whole. Cease to exist. Gone." At the final word, Astrid put her head on her crossed arms, her eyes shut tight. Teddy reached out to her, his hand on her head. "What's wrong, my love?"

Swallowing the ever-growing lump in her throat, she looked up, her face devoid of emotion. "Just curious. I never really paid attention in the Academy, to be honest." Her smile dashed all the worry from Teddy's face.

"So, you're not in trouble?" He was relieved when she shook her head. "I was wondering why they brought Hounds here. Must've just been a routine sweep."

She screamed internally. "Hounds?" Her voice was strained, but she smiled pleasantly.

"Yeah, and a few Hunters and Watchers. I wouldn't let Powder in the house. Crazy bitch."

Astrid swallowed. That _was _poison she smelled on his breath. Tap water, probably. They would be back in a few hours after the poison killed him slowly and painfully, his organs eating themselves. The Hounds would smell her. They would find her and Edward. God, _Edward. _ Her middle twisted in agony. She killed everything she touched. "Teddy, baby, who obtained this Great Knowledge-artifact-thingy after the raid on Promises of Shamballa?"

"Well, Antoine of course. He's the Iron Fist on the case. I imagine it's still in his possesion" He shrugged, as if it was trivial.

It took everything she had not to vomit. "Oh? Antoine?" She let out a shaky laugh. "He didn't come by, did he?"

Teddy chuckled, his hand to his gut. "Ah, an Iron Fist in my humble abode? Definitely not. He did send his lackey, that little girl."

Astrid's sister. She should have known the little brat would be behind the horrible death of her husband. "Oh, her?" She tried her best to sound unperturbed.

"Yeah, weird kid. Reminds me of you when you were that age." He glanced teasingly at her, and she giggled as convincingly as she could. "I'll make us some lunch." Teddy went to stand, but Astrid put her hand out.

"I'm making us coffee, then we'll catch up." She leaned down and kissed his cheek. He smiled at her.

She strode to the counter, her back to him. A tear slid down her cheek as she reached for the coffee grounds. She wiped it away. It was better this way. Peeking over her shoulder to glance at Teddy, she raised her voice to him over sound of the coffee maker. "Honey, do you still have my mug on the shelf in the dining room?"

He smiled at her. "Your wedding present?"

She nodded. "I've come home, after all. Time for celebration." She winked at him, and he jumped up. He may have been blinded by lust and obsession with her at one time, but he was a good man. She wished it wouldn't have come to this, but Antoine drove her to it.

He walked into the dining room, and she sprinkled a bit of black powder into his favorite mug, pouring the aromatic liquid over it, just as he set the mug next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She let him linger there as she poured her own cup. She smiled over her shoulder, kissing him on the cheek. She would make sure he died happy and easily, at least.

"Black, like you like it."

"And black, like you like it," he retorted, a cocky smile on his face. "We were always perfect for each other."

"Like oil and water."

He chuckled, bringing the mug to his lips. She averted her eyes. "Mmm. Best pot you've ever made."

Hassun taught her well. Tasteless poisons were a Blackwood delicacy. She smiled wearily at him. "Let's go lay down."

His eyes began to sparkle, and he set his cup down. "Well, all right then."

He grabbed her by the hand, walking to the bedroom, bracing against the wall. His step swayed for a moment, his eye blinking rapidly. "Woah," Astrid grabbed his upper arm, setting him gently on the bed.

"Are you okay, Teddy?" She feigned concern quite well.

"Sorry, honey, just feeling a little dizzy." He yawned. "And tired. Not as young as I used to be, I suppose."

She smiled, tucking the familiar quilt around him. "I'll be here when you wake up." Her voice broke, and she put her hand on his chest, feeling his heart slow.

He smiled warmly at her, love in his eyes. "You were always the girl for me."

"I know." Tears began to stream down her face. "I'm sorry."

Shaking his head, he pulled her head down to his chest. "You're here now. It's okay."

She couldn't feel the heat of him on her cheek.

"I'm so happy you're home." His voice was quiet as his breath slowed.

She kissed his lips, the poison causing her lips to tingle and numb.

He smiled, looking right in her eyes. She saw the light leave them as he coughed, a bit of black spittle falling on her face. She wiped it away, standing up shakily. Her hand slid over his eyelids, closing them. His smile was still on his face.

"Thank you for trying, Teddy." She touched his face one last time, his cheek cold. "You always did try."

She walked slowly back to the kitchen, letting her tears fall freely as she glanced at the single picture of them on the wall. It was the only one that she smiled in.

"_Draga, smile, please?" Teddy's voice was insistent as he glanced at her. He turned the scarred side of his face toward her so it wasn't visible in the picture. The motion saddened her. It was her fault he looked like that. She was a fool enough to trust another Hunter. _

_She faced the camera, smiling wide, before he snapped the picture. She kissed him for the first time of her own free will, after that. _

Astrid traced his face with her finger on the glass. "I'm sorry, Teddy."

She walked into the kitchen, slumping in the chair, her eyes still on the picture directly across from her. She let off a bolt of lightning that shattered and melted the glass, causing the wall to burst into flames. She turned and walked out of the house for the last time. Hounds couldn't smell her on what wasn't there.

* * *

Astrid opened the door to her apartment. Edward was sitting on the couch in the living room, his spine ramrod straight. His eyes slid to her. Just the sight of him caused her entire body to relax, until she remembered she was mad at him. She was so exhausted.

"I forgot milk." She felt her eyes prick and her nose burn. She wasn't going to cry in front of him. She went to the kitchen, putting the skillet on the stove. She took out an onion and began chopping. She let the tears slide down her face.

She felt that stare of his burning holes into her back. Her eyes burned even worse, and she sniffed, holding back a sob. She couldn't handle him, not then. Not when she had to let him go. She couldn't handle that grip he had on her. Bringing the knife down on the vegetable again, she sighed, her breath jagged and wet. Shuddering, she pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, shutting her eyes to everything.

"Stop." He was directly behind her. His voice was low, and sad.

"Stop what?" Her voice cracked violently. She no longer cared how weak he thought she was.

"That. Crying. Stop it." He placed his lips on the top of her spine, his forehead against the back of hers.

Her mouth went dry as his hand came around her, trapping her breast in it, the other went down her pants, sliding down to the space between her legs. She gasped, bracing her arms on the counter.

"I—" he nipped the gentle skin behind her neck, "-oh, my God."

"You can call me Edward." He flipped her roughly around, throwing her on the counter, chopped onion flying onto the floor. He tore her shirt off, his mouth hovering over every inch of exposed skin as he uncovered it.

She couldn't think of much else as he pushed her down so her back was on the counter, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He bent over her, his hand sliding from the intricate planes of her collar bone, between her breasts, and down that little dip where her navel was. He ripped her pants off, throwing them over his shoulder. He kissed her legs, her hips, her stomach.

She still felt tears slide down her face. He was too perfect. Too perfect for her. He was hard as he pressed against her, his want obvious through his jeans and he leaned back over her, his forearm braced by her head.

"I said, stop it." He took his other hand and unbuttoned his pants. He buried his head into her neck and thrust inside of her, filling her to the brim. She gasped, her hands tightening around his backside.

"Don't…" her breath was coming in silent, short pants as he pulled out of her slowly, "…stop."

He picked his head up, looking at her directly, his golden gaze heady and horrible and beautiful at the same time. He slid back in, and her eyes rolled back into her head. Her legs tightened around his waist, and that was it for Edward.

Hips bucking wildly, he clung to her, or she clung to him; she couldn't tell the difference between the two of them anymore. Each stroke brought her closer to the edge, her vision turning blood red before he pounded into her one last time. All noise left her as she exploded, taking him with her.

He gasped, shaking. Putting his head between her breasts, he breathed her in. She took his head between her hands, holding him close while she had him.

She stopped crying.


	30. Previous Notions of Discontent, Dashed

A.N. Oh man, guys, we're nearing the breaking point here. Never thought I'd actually finish this story, dear lord. Read and review, my darlings. Tell me your every burning thought at this ball of fucking fluff I've written down below. Man, I'd be ashamed of myself if it wasn't so damn necessary that they grow closer. Maaahhh

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN FMA OKAY

* * *

Astrid found herself hurting every time she looked at Edward, now.

His cheek was pillowed on his forearms as he lay on his stomach, the golden hair there was silver in the moonlight. His hair had already grown since she had cut it in that cramped train car, and wanted to run her fingers through it, to feel its softness and release that scent of it so she could remember it forever. She didn't. She wouldn't want to break any spell that he cast. His nose that she once thought crooked, no doubt broken many times in his youth, she now thought perfect, like the rest of him. His brow was low, nothing gentle about it. Those lips that she liked so much were nice; they were the only thing really soft about him. And those eyes. She could sing things about those eyes, even though her voice was like a frog's. She insulted frogs with that analogy, but Edward liked that too.

She was on her side, naked, the moon casting its pale blue light on her, making her look ever more ghostly and she hated it. She was flawed, and he was perfect. She went to pull the covers over her, but Edward grabbed her hand.

"Don't." His deep voice always seemed on the brink of yelling, even as he whispered, like he couldn't contain anything inside of him. She wondered what he was like as a child; probably stubborn and ornery. Not that he still wasn't. "I like it."

"Like what?" She was thoroughly confused with him. He liked the things she hated about herself, her disgustingly pale skin, her scars, her hair that wouldn't do anything she wanted it to.

He was quiet for a minute, something akin to hurt flashing in his eyes. "You."

"You don't like me, idiot." She wrinkled her nose.

"I do." He said it with surprise as he appraised her.

Her frown stayed on her face even as he reached out to touch the crease between her brow with his thumb. "Strangely enough, I do like you."

"Well, that does not mean that I have to like you."

He let a chuckle slip out, his breath falling on her face like a gust of warm, fall wind. "No, I guess it doesn't."

"Can you tell me of the girl you love?"

His eyes grew sad, the gold of them tarnished for a moment. "I guess."

"What's her name?" She raised up on her elbows, her attention on him. It was pure curiosity, with him. He was this puzzle she yearned to solve before his light was snuffed out.

He flipped over on his back, his arms stretched above him, the massive knots of muscle there contracting as he stretched. "Her name's Winry." He looked like even saying her name hurt him. His face contorted into something she didn't recognized.

"That's a dumb name," she remarked before she could stop herself.

"Says the girl whose name is _drachen._" The guttural lull of his German around the word made the ridiculous name sound appealing.

"Go on." She poked his ribs, and his torso retracted from it. He grunted.

"What do you want me to say?" He looked at her, his perfect mouth forming into a strange line, as though this were uncharted territory that he was trekking through.

Astrid shrugged. "How'd you meet?"

He looked from her to the ceiling. "We grew up together. We were neighbors, of sorts."

"What does she look like?" The idea that she didn't know him forever rubbed her a bit raw.

He wiggled under the sheets, uncomfortable. "I'm no wordsmith, I don't know how to describe her."

"No shit, you've got the vocabulary of a five-year-old." He threw her a glare. She nodded in recognition. "Ah, I see. She's so beautiful you can't describe her."

He shifted uneasily, looking away from her. "No, I wouldn't say that."

"So, she so ugly you can't bear to disgrace yourself to describe her?"

"You asked, bitch. And don't talk about her like that. She's prettier than you." He glared at her again.

She grinned at him. "No one's prettier than me. Go on."

He looked at her suspiciously. "She's the opposite of you. In looks, I mean."

Astrid nodded, looking for the words to describe his mystery lover. "Ah, pretty little blonde then."

"Yeah, that's it." His eyes glazed over as he no doubt thought of her.

It twisted her insides a bit to ask the next question. "When did you fall in love with her?"

"When?" He appeared perplexed as he looked at Astrid, his eyes scanning her face for something. "I'm starting to question things."

"Things?" Her heart balled up in her throat.

"Yeah. Things." His expression was unrecognizable. She didn't know what he was thinking, for once.

"You do suck at words." She felt the top of her nose burn, and her eyes began to sting. "Edward?"

He turned to his side to look at her more fully. "What?"

"I'm happy you're here." She bit her lip, trying her best to keep her voice from cracking.

He frowned.

"I'm happy you're here, Edward," she repeated, her raspy voice low and serious, "but don't for a minute think that I want to be." She pulled close to him, putting her head on his lap so he couldn't see her face. "You shouldn't be where you are." She wrapped her arms tightly around both of his legs, holding them tightly as though she had tied him with rope to keep him where he was. He put a hand warily on top of her head.

"Just leave me. Forget about it all, me, your past life, the Authority. Forget everything. Go back to normal life, far, far away. Get a shit job. Get someone you love a lot, even if it's not Winry, and get a couch big enough for the two of you to watch movies on. Have six kids and name all of them after birds, or Civil War generals. Don't name one after me, because by then I won't exist to you anymore. Get old and die in hospice hopped up on so much Morphine that even you can't even feel the cold wind of death brush up against you. Just don't come back. When they catch me I'll tell them you got hit by a car or I got mad at you and blew you up. But don't think I'm telling you this because I don't want you here. I'm selfish enough that I am going take all that I'm saying back after I'm done. But just know that this…this thing we do? This will destroy you. You will die. And once you know this and continue on, there's no turning back. Your search for the life you left behind will kill you."

She heard him sigh raggedly. Her breath hitched as she wiped a tear away.

"Now, ignore what I just said, and let's lay in this bed tonight and we'll pack whatever we have and move our location come morning. We'll find a way to get you home without either of us dying, and we'll never speak of your pretty blonde girl again." A sob escaped her, and she bit her fist to keep from another from coming out.

Edward's calloused hands rubbed across the smooth skin of her back, his own breath low and shaking. He grabbed her from under her arms, hoisting her up and holding her tightly around her shoulders, close to him.

"You don't want to die anymore?" His voice cracked, and he tucked her head under his chin.

Tears fell from her eyes to his chest, and she drew in a shaky breath. "You win. You win." She grabbed onto him tightly, her arms winding around his waist, and she let herself cry hard for the first time since Hassun died. She found, for the first time since then, that she didn't want to join him. She wanted to forever lay there in that moment with this man who didn't even want to be there.

She realized, then, that she may not like him at all, but she sure as hell loved him.

* * *

_Amestris_

_Train from Resembool to Central_

Winry sneezed, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. Someone must have been talking about her.

She shuddered to herself. Ed, gone.

Al must have been a mess. A tear slipped down her cheek again. She had gotten the letter the day before, in Al's shaky script, that Edward had gone missing, and that if she wanted to, she should come to Central. She could have hit Al; of course she had to come. Hadn't she told Edward that she'd give him her heart? Or at least eighty percent of it.

Her thoughts strayed again to the sturdy set of him at the train station, his legs braced as he laughed at her for making the hardest confession of her life.

She wondered often if the jerk found another woman, and that was why he hadn't been home in a while. She shot that thought down almost the minute it cropped up. Ed wouldn't do that to her, surely. Even though he was bad with words, he had told her that he would give her his life. That was enough for Winry.

She couldn't think of what she would do if he…

She shook her head. Al would get him back.

He always came back.


	31. Finality and the Frailness of Hearts

A.N.: I love you guys. Your comments keep me going! Any new readers here? Tell me what you think!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or any of its characters.

* * *

_1989, London_

* * *

She knew someone was following her.

Astrid could feel the burn of eyes upon her as she turned each corner, getting closer and closer to her home, but she could still feel them following her. She knew well enough to not look behind her, but she could see the crowd in front of her pausing with what they were doing to look at the person following her.

It must have been Powder. Only she had guts enough to follow someone in plain sight without a disguise. Her general paleness had been increased tenfold when she died, so where before, people would stop to look at the blonde beauty, they now stopped to look at the parchment-white circus freak. Astrid didn't feel the least bit bad about it, either.

Sure, they had been friends once. Sisters, even. But jealousy was a disgusting thing. It turned good people into animals. Worse than animals. Sick beings with nothing but hate in their hearts. Powder had tried to kill her once, before she fell off of the barge. Or rather, before Astrid pushed her off.

It was just after Astrid had graduated from the Academy. Highest honors, of course; it was what was expected of her. Her mother had just been elected to High Seat, after all. Powder wasn't even at graduation. But when Astrid came back home, Powder was there on her front porch. She paced, her soft blonde hair swinging in the wind. Astrid's head hurt as she thought back on the exchange that changed her life.

_"You're wearing holes in the porch, Bianca." She smiled widely. "You gonna come inside?"_

_She barely had time to dodge the column of fire as it roared past her head._

_"You…"_

_"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Astrid jackknifed quickly to her feet, dust and ashes flying everywhere._

_Powder's face was contorted in rage, her eyebrows low over her eyes and her teeth bared. "You said you'd give me such a good review, I'd get elected to a Seat. You told me I was as good as hired! I didn't even graduate you lying cunt."_

_Astrid put her hands up shakily. "Bianca, I gave Thaddeus the best review possible. I told him that you would be perfect for the squad, I told him your credentials were beyond outstanding. Whatever happened was not because of me."_

_Powder came down the stairs, her lips black from the soot and her fingers burning from the Drip. "Did you hear nothing I just said? I. Did. Not. Graduate."_

_"AND I DON'T KNOW WHY." Astrid stood ramrod straight, her face in Powder's. She shoved her with both hands, causing her to fall onto the porch steps. "Fucking throw another beam at me, bitch. I didn't do jack shit."_

_"She's right, Bianca." The deep voice came from behind. Thaddeus rounded in between the two of them, his face beautiful and unscathed. He stood tall, his hands behind his back. "She gave you a sparkling review. She's lucky I put her on the team for all of the bullshit that was in there."_

_"Thaddeus, what the hell are you doing here?" Powder shifted her shirt, sitting straighter. Astrid scowled._

_"He's here because I told him you were." Yet another man came in from the tree line. Hassun came behind Astrid, and she tried her best not to throw her arms around him. He discreetly rolled a piece of her hair between his fingers before standing between them also._

_"Why, Hassun?" Her eyes were wide as she looked at him with love. Poor girl didn't know about the two of them. Astrid didn't feel as bad at that moment. She looked at the man's strong profile, his hair blue-black and longer than was fashionable, his skin dark and beautiful against the sky. His mouth moved around his words with that clipped accent that was unique to the Native Americans. Astrid was surprised she didn't fuck him where he stood._

_"You did not fail the Academy because Draga made you. You failed because you are not yet ready."_

_All was quiet then, the men's hands still behind their backs but ready for action. Powder simply stood, staring at Astrid, her mouth slowly turning down lower at the corners. Astrid then realized she was looking at Hassun with much the same expression as Powder just had. She swallowed hard._

_"You goddamn, whoring, filthy piece of…" She opened her mouth wide, her tendons straining in her cheeks. Hassun tried to take her down, diving with his arms around her waist, but she broke free. Astrid shut her eyes._

_Thaddeus's screams could be heard from a mile away. The smell of burning flesh hit Astrid before anything. He had thrown himself in front of her._

_Astrid and Powder's relationship had been done ever since. Of course, Astrid did not think she would try and kill her again. But she did. Twice afterward. The second time, she only got herself killed. Astrid had to hand it to her, though. She almost did finish the job the last time._

_Poor Powder._

_Someone always got there first._

Astrid shook herself out of her recollection, concentration on the fact that she was still being followed. Even now, as the apartments of Holland Park loomed into view, Powder continued to follow her, not a care given to the fact that she was in plain sight.

She passed her apartment building. She wouldn't do something as stupid as bringing it into her own house.

Turning down an alleyway, steam billowing up as she walked, she called out. "Well then. We'll do it here."

She turned around, expecting the white mess that was Powder. It wasn't.

"Antoine?"

His oily smile curled up the corners of his mustache. She cringed. "What are you doing, following me?"

"I've got a bit of a problem, my dear. Would you ask me what that is?"

"Antoine, please, whatever it is I'm sure my mother..."

"_ASK ME WHAT MY PROBLEM IS._"

She jumped, every hair on her neck standing to attention. "Wh...what's your problem, Antoine?"

"_Uncle._" His face was furious, his nose flared and teeth bared in such a way that terrified Astrid.

"Uncle Antoine, what's wrong?" She began to shake.

He stepped forward, the steam rising around him. "You are my problem, Astrid. Would you like to know why?"

"No. I mean...yes. What?" She clenched her hands together.

"I won't hurt you, Draga. Not me, of course." He smiled as he looked beyond her. She didn't dare look behind her. "I think you know very well why I'm here."

He knew. He knew that Hassun killed him, or rather, Hassun's father did. Now he wanted her to confirm it. "No," she lied.

"You have knowledge that could destroy the Water family, Draga. Knowledge that I am Revived. That's a horrible thing to be. Something no one should know."

Astrid shook her head. "I don't know anything. Please, let me go Antoine. My mother is looking for me."

"You are what, 17 years old, Draga?"

She nodded.

"Shame."

She felt the knife slip under her ribs before she could even move forward. The man had came from behind her, and Antoine looked on with a sick excitement. Again and again the sharp blade was jabbed into her, thick, warm liquid spilling down her back and down her legs. She couldn't breathe; another jab struck her right in the lungs.

The pain was incredible. She fell to her knees, crying.

"Should...never..." she coughed, dark blood spilling from her lips.

"Last words, my darling?" He leaned down close to her, where she was now laying on the ground.

"Should never have revived you." Her voice was wheezing and rough, but she glared into his eyes with such unabashed hatred that it shocked him back.

"You! You were the Lightning Wielder?"

She said nothing. She couldn't. She simply gathered the blood from the back of her teeth and spit it up onto his face, enough to cause him to sputter and cough.

It went dark very suddenly. The last thing she thought of was the horrible taste in her mouth.

* * *

_1999_, _London_

Astrid was brushing her teeth when Edward came in, scratching his head and yawning.

"You know, you could wear some clothing every once in a while. It's freezing in here."

Astrid looked at her state, her pale body only covered with her long hair. "I noticed." She looked at him. "I didn't see you complaining earlier."

He wrapped his arms around her, one metal and one flesh. One cold, one warm. She smiled.

"I normally would not be." He kissed her cheek. "But according to you, we have little time to hit the road."

She nodded, mumbling around her toothbrush. "Unless we don't want to be burnt to crisps, we really should."

Edward shook his head and sighed. "I still yearn to understand this power you all wield. I'd still much rather get home, though."

Astrid paused in her brushing, and Edward padded over to the shower. "Would you?"

"Would I, what?"

"Rather get home." She wasn't looking at anything in particular as she placed her toothbrush in her duffle bag.

Edward paused, looking at her. "Get out." She whipped her gaze to him, and he frowned. "Shower."

She could have rebuked anyway she wanted. She could have blown up, all of her pent up anger and sadness flowing free. She could have begged. She could have joked about his shyness. But she didn't. She turned silently, her face stony as she walked out. She heard him let his pent up breath out. Shutting the door behind her, she sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her shirt over her head.

Astrid could stand next to him. Astrid could kiss him. Astrid could fuck him and Astrid could make love to him. Astrid could hold his head between her hands and feel his soft golden hair fall over her fingers, and she could smell him and his soap and she could love him with all her heart if she wanted, but nothing could make him want her as badly as she wanted him.

"Astrid?" His voice was low as he stuck his head out the door frame. Her heart leapt in her chest. "What is the Civil War?"

As quickly as that hope had risen, it was murdered brutally and spat upon. "What?"

"Last night, you said to name my children after Civil War generals. What is the Civil War? How is war civil?"

"That's all you got out of my heart-rending speech, Edward?"

He cleared his throat and looked at his feet, steam pouring out of the door behind him.

Astrid tried to gather her feelings together, and rolled her eyes. "I forget you're not from this planet. Go take a shower, we need to go."

He stuck his head back inside and shut the door. Astrid learned quickly and early on not to expect anything from him, but more importantly, she learned not to think he loved her, or had any feelings beyond the burning lust that takes everyone once in a while. Like a cold, it would go away. He'd realize he couldn't go back to his world, and he'd leave her. He'd find a beautiful girl and he'd forget her in a few years. Maybe ten, if she was lucky. But he'd forget her anyway.

Maybe he'd destroy this world and get the nerve to kill her. He'd go back and see his brother and tell him how he missed him and tell him how he met an insane Serbian girl who he shared a bed with and tried to kill him when she first met him. And then he'd forget, just like that. Looking at circles wouldn't hurt him like it would her. He could eat an onion without his heart twisting in pain. He could lay in bed alone and not wish the world would end for everyone else like it had for him. He affected her in a way that she could never affect him, and that hurt more than dying.

Maybe Alex was right. The Deathwalker would kill her, the Enabler; just not in the way she had imagined.

* * *

Winry stood on the platform on the Aerugan border, the hot dry air blowing her blonde hair across her face.

"Al, you have a plan, don't you?"

The boy's face was drawn, and tired. Winry shook her head. He wasn't a boy anymore; he was in his twenties for goodness sakes. A man with too many troubles on his mind. Edward was all he had left. Of course he had a plan.

"Of course I have a plan. Don't worry, Winry. I'll get him back for you." His sweet smile was weak.

Winry wiped away a tear. "Get him back for _you, _Al. Get him back for us." She put her hand on the side of his face, meaning to comfort him. A few tears slid down his cheek, and he shook her off of him.

He simply nodded at her, than looked to Mustang. They had a train to catch. Winry was hoping Edward would be on the one back home.

* * *

"Mustang, I think I know what to do." Alphonse had been writing furiously for the past hour and half they had been on the train. Even still as he spoke, he was scribbling on the same piece of paper, but where there was a severe frown creasing his brow, he now had a look of relief.

Mustang set down his coffee, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "Do tell."

Al didn't look up as he continued to write, his hair flopping down in his face every few minutes. "I couldn't figure out why Edward was able to travel to Earth, a parallel universe, after he lost his alchemy." Al shook his head. "No, I should start with the Thule Society. Father and I were thrown through the Gate, only…It wasn't the Gate. Not truly. Truth wasn't there. You know, Mustang, you've seen him."

Mustang shut his eyes, then opened them immediately. He hated remembering the being known as Truth. He took his sight. It was by pure chance alone that the Philosopher's Stone brought it back. "I have."

"Well, there was no gate. It wasn't white. It was dark, Mustang, and foggy. Our feet were wet…we were in a river. It felt different…we didn't feel anything. It wasn't the Gate, Mustang. It wasn't the Gate." Al suddenly began to laugh. "I should have known."

Mustang leaned forward. "What are you saying, Alphonse?"

Alphonse leaned back, pushing forward the paper he had. It was the most intricate transmutation circle Mustang had ever seen, and that was saying something. The boy had a smile on his face, his brown eyes jolly. "We took a short cut. There's no need to go through the secret passage when you can take the front door. A complicated front door, but still better than sacrificing a life to get inside."

"So…the secret passage is the Gate? Death, you mean?"

Alphonse threw up his hands. "Yes!" He chuckled loudly. "It makes so much sense!"

Mustang frowned. "It does?"

Alphonse put his hands out, a small dimple coming out on his right cheek. "Think of time and dimensions as paper;" he held a clean sheet of parchment between his hands. "My right thumb," he wiggled it for emphasis then put it on the corner, "is our world. My left thumb is their world, the one Edward's been sucked into."

He folded the paper many times, forming an intricate bird. "Now, you can't tell, but I touched the two points my thumbs were at. This is like going through the Gate. Too many steps, too many precautions to make sure you don't come out dead or worse. But the transmutation circle," he unfolded the bird, "is like doing this."

He folded the paper in half, the two points touching directly. "It cuts the whole process in half by taking a different route. A safer route."

Mustang breathed out, leaning back. "But what of Equivalent Exchange?"

Alphonse smothered a groan. "Exactly. This is where I run into a wall. What is the cost of us passing through there so easily? The first time, I'm almost certain, was Edward's alchemy."

Mustang shook his head. "Alphonse, Edward lost his alchemy when he went to get you."

"Yes, but where did it go?" His eyes swam.

"Sorry?"

"Where did it go? There was no Philosopher's Stone, there was no physical damage to Brother. Everything went on, except his alchemy was gone. Truth wouldn't use it. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. Where did it go?" He dug in his pocket, pulling out a black and white photograph. He pushed it towards Mustang.

He held it in his hands, still not comprehending. "The Aerugan Madstone?"

"What does it look like to you?" Alphonse's eyes danced.

"Well, I suppose it looks like a Philosopher's Stone."

Alphonse raised his finger. "It does. But it isn't." He took the photo again, putting it back in his pocket. "It's the Knowledge. Edward gained knowledge when he brought me back from the Gate. So much knowledge that he couldn't comprehend any of it, aside from his knowledge of the energy required for alchemy. Hence his ability to perform alchemy without a transmutation circle. He lost that when he lost his alchemy, Mustang. Where did it go?" He patted his pocket.

Mustang's eyes opened wide. "It made itself into a stone. The Knowledge itself made it into a stone. Edward did it inadvertently?"

"Edward tricked Truth. He gave Truth the one thing he had never thought of giving up; his alchemy. It gave him me, and kept him on our plane of existence. It ruined Truth's plans. Edward should be in the other world now; he should have died in this one giving his life for me." Alphonse's eyes got a far-off look in them. "He didn't. When the stone reacted with Edward's nearness, it shot him back to where he was supposed to be, where the Truth had originally thought on sending him."

Mustang put his head in his hands. "I don't know how you came up with that, Al, but I believe you. What do we do know?"

Al shrugged. "We get him back. By the front door, of course." He poked the intricate transmutation circle. "I just don't know what the price will be."

"If the stone reacted to Edward, than it means it couldn't do anything without him. It couldn't live while the other did. They had to be together, or else one is destroyed."

Alphonse's eyes danced as he thought. What could be the price of getting his brother back?

He suddenly paused, his mouth going dry.

No, no, no.

Mustang began to breath heavily. They looked at each other.

"Alphonse..."

"...certainly not. It wouldn't be that extreme. It's just one person."

"One person with all of the knowledge in the world. Worlds."

Al shook his head. "No."

"We don't know that, Alphonse."

"No, it wouldn't be so bad. Not the entire world."

"We don't _know that, _Alphonse."

"He's my brother, dammit!"

Mustang and the entire train car became silent.

"He's my brother..." He shook his head.

"Alphonse, a lot of people have brothers. Millions of people have brothers. Would you kill them all to have your brother back?"

He began to shiver. Would he?

What would he do to see his brother again?

Would he really kill to get him back?

* * *

A.N.: Wow that's a long fucking chapter. And I've got half of another one completed, damn I'm good. *brushes shoulder off like a douchebag

I know, a lot of you don't like our dear Winry, but she _is_ Ed's closest friend and the girl he told he'd give his heart to. We can't ignore that! Not for a solid story!

Speaking of story, we're nearing our big explosion of a climax. I don't mean that sexually. Or do I. :B

Well, it seems we have an almost completely fleshed out storyline, finally, 31 chapters in. Dear God above, help me and my long winded-ness. I'm surprised you 3 have stuck around, bahahah. Love you guys. Onward~!


	32. Needs and Conflicting Interests

A.N.: Sorry for the wait, everyone, broken ankle and school combined = butt kicked. I went back and revised previous chapters to fix some inconsistencies, but if any of you see anymore, let me know. Our story is close to its arc, my friends. Love you all~~

Disclaimer: Still don't own FMA

* * *

Edward Elric always knew exactly what he wanted.

He wanted to be like his father, at first. Then he just wanted his mother to feel better. Then he wanted her back. Then he wanted his brother back together again. And, up until last night, he wanted to go back home.

Edward wished he could say he didn't know what changed his mind. Or rather, _who _it was. But he did; he knew that it was the woman walking beside him, the cold wind blowing her wild hair behind her. He looked at her profile, her long lashes, the small, upturned nose, her large lips. His entire body was at a quiet hum around her; he could never sit still. He felt the need to tell her.

"Do you remember the car ride to Ostend, Astrid?" His voice was quiet and scratchy as he blew out the freezing air.

She turned back to him, her eyes misty and half lidded from the snow. He could still make out the beautiful silver of them, causing his chest to contract. She nodded.

"You remember our conversation, then?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, I do."

"You remember your proposition, all those weeks ago." His voice wavered, and he cleared his throat, looking her in the eyes. Her face fell visibly, before shutting down completely.

"I remember." Her voice cracked.

"I missed my family and my home. All my life I worked to keep my brother safe and happy. You understand why I would want to go home."

"Are you asking me to die for you?"

Edward looked horrified for a moment, and shook his head. "No. Not that proposition. The one you made about 'relieving pressure'; the 'pressure' we've been relieving these past weeks."

She almost missed a step as she was walking. "Okay?"

"I told you something in regards to that proposition that I'd like to take back." His voice was steady as he looked at the sky, his thoughts clear for the first time in ages.

Astrid stopped. He heard her breath catch.

He too stopped, a bit ahead of her, his hands in his pockets, his eyes still on the grey, cloudy sky. "I find you compelling. Like a particularly complicated formula. I think I know the outcome, but you always turn out something completely different than my hypothesis. But it doesn't bother me, not being able to solve you, Astrid."

His hair stood on end when he said her name.

"You're comparing me to science, Edward." He could hear the amusement in her voice.

"I am, because it's the only thing I know, now." He turned to look at her, his eyes taking her in like he always did. Her long legs, that small waist that he could nearly wrap his one hand around. That face. The face that haunted every moment of his life; that face that for the longest time he tried to get out of his head. Now, he didn't even try. Those lips that curled when she was angry, or she bit when she looked at him long enough. Her huge eyes that could betray nothing or anything, that sometimes saw only him. "It's the only thing I know, now, aside from the way I feel about you."

Right now, her lips were smiling. "Oh?" she said, prodding him.

He smiled back at her. "You know I'm not good at this."

"I know."

His heart hurt to even look at her. It made no sense. No emotion comes from the heart; this, Edward knew. But it was almost as if he had razor wire wrapped around the organ, attached to Astrid, and every time she did something that was uniquely her it threatened to shred it to bits, but never did. He thought that if he left her, it would.

"I think you do know." His eyes looked into hers, that searing pain that he enjoyed so much floating through his head.

She smiled. "I said, I know." Her face fell, looking down at the ground. "I didn't before, but…" When she looked back up at him, she stepped toward him. "I think I know now."

"No one but you." The words came easily to him. Much easier than he thought they would.

"No one but us." Her eyes were wide as she moved a bit closer, their chests almost touching. They weren't saying much, but Edward knew exactly what she meant, and she knew exactly what he meant.

His mother had always said that people in love could communicate without words, like radio transmissions that were made for only two people to hear. He understood, then. He was almost afraid to touch her; to ruin the sanctity of that moment when two people were so finely in tune that they just _knew. _

"Love is a ridiculous concept." His voice was low as he looked in her eyes.

"Mere mingling pheromones, really," she joined in. Her eyes danced as she smiled, a tiny dimple forming in her cheek. He felt his breath fly out, his heart hurting so good that he wanted to be in that moment, forever.

"It's silly. We shouldn't associate ourselves with it." He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, invisible sparks shooting through him that had nothing to do with her electricity.

"We really shouldn't." Her voice was breathy and her eyes were half-lidded.

He cocked his head ever-so-slightly to the side, and warm smile on his face. "I just can't help imagining your scenario of getting a shit job, far, far away and coming home with you on my couch to watch films with."

"Is that love?" Her eyes were mercurial, the silver of them swimming as she looked at him expectantly.

He sighed his hand winding behind her neck. "Yes, I think it is."

She let go of her pent up breath, her hands going to his face. She stood on her toes, kissing him so deeply that Edward thought he could absorb her right then and there. He had to admit, it wasn't such a bad idea.

Time seemed to stop to the both of them. The snow swirled incandescently around their entwined forms, arms wrapped tightly around each other.

She pulled away slightly, her eyes watery and happy as she looked at him. "What about—"

He put his forehead to hers, shushing her. "We'll talk about it later. It doesn't matter, right now."

"And I do?" She bit her lip.

Edward smiled again, his heart soaring. "Yeah, Astrid. I think you do."

* * *

_South Amestris, Aerugan Border_

_The Crossing Inn & Pub_

"Alphonse, you realize that if we're going to do this, we need to do this soon." The tall, dark haired man gestured to the scattered papers covered with scribble. When they ran out of paper, they used the walls. The innkeeper would be none too happy about it, but the two men had more pressing things to worry about. "You know the array. You know the exact placement of the tear. We must act."

The boy shook his head, his normally soft, warm eyes dark and cold. "I need time to think."

Mustang sighed, placing his hand on the other man's shoulder, if anything to keep him from trembling. "If what you've found out is correct, then the times between our two worlds will be the same for a short period. The dawn of the Millennium is coming up for their world. It would be the perfect time. If you _are _correct, the Gates—doors, which ever—will be perfectly aligned. If we're going to get Edward out of there with the body count at a minimum, we need to do it then."

Alphonse snapped his head up. "Mustang, I—"

He shook his head. "If you're going to make a decision, do it quickly. You're the brains behind this operation. You have it all figured out. If you want to play moral games with yourself, get them done by today." Mustang paced wearily. "You've got till the day after tomorrow to do this, Alphonse. After that, it will be too late. Don't you want your brother back?"

Alphonse shook, leaning his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands together. "I _need _him back, Roy." Tears fell from his eyes, weak reminders of his time in the suit. "He's all I have."

* * *

A.N.: MANNY, EDWARD WOULD NEVER LEAVE ALPHONSE, ARE YOU STUPID? I do know, my dears. We'll just have to see what the fuck's going through Edward's mind in the next few chapters. ONLY 3 DAYS LEFT, GUYS. 3 DAYS! Stay tuned to my mediocre homage to the best show on planet earth ~


	33. Brotherly Love and Fatalities

A.N.: We're reaching our apex, friends. So close, yet sooooo far! WAhhhahaha - This is on a completely unrelated note, but if any of you live in the Chicago area and know of a cheap used car I could totally use one. If I have to hop to the bus stop with my crippled ass one more time I'm gonna blow. Anyway, onward.

Disclaimer: All I own is this laptop and two expired e-z packs of ramen definitely not FMA

* * *

Mustang sat in the rickety wooden chair in the room with Alphonse, sipping on his coffee as he usually did. He could barely keep the porcelain cup from shaking as he set it down on the saucer. Alphonse set down his pen, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a shuddering sigh.

"I discovered something yesterday." Alphonse was quiet ever since their conversation yesterday; it was the first words Mustang had heard out of him since then. "I chose not to tell you."

He turned his dark eyes toward the boy, whose body was hunched over and emaciated from lack of food and abundance of worry. Mustang leaned back in the chair, the creaking being the only sound in the room.

"And what exactly is it you didn't tell me?" His voice was softly prodding. He was afraid to push the boy into a nervous breakdown.

"I told you that their Millennium was fast approaching. And since their time is on a different plane than ours, it also moves differently. But, every so often, when either their world or ours reaches the precipice of switching Millennia, there's a slight gap between our worlds. A crevice, if you will."

"Yes, we discussed this; you told me that it was optimum time for passing through worlds, as the opening would open on its own, so we would not have to make our own slit. There would be no casualties or harm to either worlds."

Alphonse nodded, shrinking into himself. "This is what my hypothesis was. In theory, it makes perfect sense." He leaned back in his chair, his normally jolly, warm face was stone cold. "But there was a flaw in my research."

Mustang tried to repress a shiver down his spine. "Flaw?"

Al didn't move as he continued in a deadpan voice, "In order for something to be repaired, it must be broken first."

Mustang nodded. "Yes, this is true."

Alphonse sighed, his eyes going blank as he remembered. "My father, brother, and I were searching for an artifact that brought us to the other world, quite on accident. Do you remember this?"

He nodded again. "It brought you to their Earth, where you were successful in stopping the Thule society."

"Yes. We came through a tear in reality that connected our worlds, a tear that the Thule society created themselves."

The older man said nothing, letting him continue.

"Mustang, when you have huge tears in a shirt, do you try to fix them, or do you throw it away?"

Mustang's breathing became heavy, dread clawing his way up to his brain. "You throw it away. It can't be repaired."

Alphonse began to sob, his shoulders shaking as he continued between deep gulps of breath. "The passage of time cures all wounds. But if there are too many wounds in succession, you bleed out and die. Three different slices to the body will weaken it severely. But three slices and one to an artery…?"

"There are already three dangerous wounds in time. One more will—"

"—kill everything. The other world will be obliterated; time cannot repair itself again. Time over there is already unraveling for the sewing of the new Millennium. Just one tiny pull on one little thread will unravel the whole thing." Alphonse looked toward the ceiling, tears streaming down his face. "My brother for an entire world of people. People with brothers like me."

Mustang dropped the cup from his hands, shattering on the floor. Coffee seeped into the wooden floors, steam rising. Never had he thought this plan could fail. Never had he actually assumed that they would _lose _him. He never realized this, but he thought Edward was invincible. He had come back from the Gate so many times that he could almost – literally – cheat death.

"…That's it." Mustang's voice was quiet.

Alphonse snapped his head toward him. "What, Mustang?"

"The Gate."

Alphonse's eyes widened. "But, we need a—"

"Yes, we need a sacrifice. If it comes to that, we'll think of something. But, for right now, that's our only option. We need an alternative route right now."

Al let out a few more silent sobs, his hands in his hair. "I know. I would never—"

"You're not that kind of person, Alphonse. You care about people. But you also care for your brother. It may come down to picking a choosing. I would choose the option that you can carry on your shoulders for the rest of your life." Mustang placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, squeezing tightly, as if he could wring out all of the sadness and horror from him. Shaking his head, he turned and left the room, leaving Alphonse to contemplate his decision.

Mustang knew for a fact that he would leave his brother there, when it came down to it. Alphonse would never kill a human being, let alone an entire people. To Al, it seemed like a difficult decision, but Mustang knew what he would do. He had to hope that he knew Alphonse that well. Lives depended on that hope.

Either way, something would end tomorrow: the strongest bond of brotherhood, or a world.

* * *

Astrid was walking beside Edward, her heart half on fire and half ecstatic. He didn't _want _to leave.

"Edward, what made you change your mind?" She looked at him expectantly.

He looked at her, smiling, but his eyes sad. "I figured it out."

"What do you mean?" She suddenly shivered, and he smiled warmly at her.

"I know that it is nearly impossible to go back. Truly, I solved it almost a year ago, but I was – and still am –far too stubborn to think such things. I would never stop trying to be reunited with my brother."

She raised her eyebrows. "Is that why you were up all night a few days ago, writing?"

"Yes. It almost makes sense, now." He took her hand in his, than looked up to the sky. "I am still unsure how I got here. I've been trying for the past week to piece together what you were saying when you broke down in that man's office. While I still don't quite understand how I got here, I do know that I must have torn…what do you call it? The Cloth?"

Astrid nodded.

"If my father, brother and I tore it once coming through, again coming back out, and now I will have torn it twice again. There's no way anything could stand up to that much damage without the sacrificial route; the Gate."

Astrid was quiet for a moment. "So, you would have used me for a sacrifice."

Edward shrugged. "Before, yes. Maybe. I don't know." He sighed and shook his head. "My brother is everything, to me."

"I know." Astrid turned her head down to the ground, taking her hand out of Edward's.

"You also know that you have a pretty sizeable chunk of me, too." He blushed slightly, and she grinned, grabbing between his legs. He jumped back, laughing. He ran towards her, grabbing her around the waist and throwing her over his shoulder. She let out a grunt, his metal shoulder jamming into her side.

He set her down smiling wide. His golden eyes danced as he looked down at her, her heart filled with joy. "You know, I would be your sacrifice."

Edward frowned, a frustrated line appearing between his brows. "And you know I would never ask that of you."

She trailed her fingers down his face, her fingers brushed the golden, rough shadow on his jaw, then down his thick corded neck.

It was then that she noticed the small, glowing, red dot on his chest.

* * *

She shrieked and shoved him down, but not before the bullet hit him. He bellowed, the hot iron tearing through his chest, blood splattering on Astrid's horrified face. Edward looked at her, then fell to the ground.

Astrid fell to the ground, her face blank as she worked to stop the bleeding. She tore off her sweatshirt, pressing it to his wound, panic coursing through her veins. People on the street yelled, running the opposite direction. Astrid turned her head, looking this way and that for the sniper, before hoisting the unbelievably heavy Edward from under his shoulders and carrying him to an alleyway, where they were out of sight. The sound of police sirens passed by them

"Edward? Edward, stay awake." She smoothed his hair back, the golden sheen of it being marred by blood as she did so.

He looked at her, his face drawn and pale. She kissed him on the forehead. "Apply pressure." He simply nodded, clutching the balled up sweatshirt to his wound.

Just then, the phone booth directly behind them rang. Astrid's face turned into a horrific scowl, and she stalked over to it. Grasping the receiver with shaking hands, she barked into it, "Speak!"

"Draga, my dear. It is a shame about your friend. If you had only done the job that was required of you, none of this would have happened. " The man sighed on the other end, the sound of a chair creaking in the background. "No matter, though. He'll be dead by morning. Those Blackwood poisons _do_ come in handy…"

Astrid shook in her rage, her eyes never leaving Edward, who was slouched against the wall, panting heavily.

"My dear, you know who he is. You know why he must die. And yet, you could not finish the task. Look to your left."

Astrid whipped her head to the left, looking up to the rooftop. There, her younger sister, Svetlana, stood, a rifle in her hands and a smile on her face. A low growl resounded from her, and the rage she felt was so intense, she saw red. Antoine's oily voice came back onto the phone. "I've told her to not kill you quite yet. She wants to do it much more…_personal._"

"One moment, please." Her voice was ragged as she let the phone hang on its cord. She stepped out of the booth, Drip falling from her fingers and sizzling onto the pavement. Her sister still stood smugly overlooking her, the rifle still in her hands.

"Hello, little sister." Astrid attempted to calm down, the Drip receding. Her hands burned.

"Hello, Draga." Her tiny voice carried down to her, the sweetness of it threatening to cause an explosion from Astrid. She only continued to glare at her.

"Does it hurt, sister, to know that you were only born to kill me?"

Svetlana frowned, her eyebrows drawn. "Perhaps. But I am far more powerful than you."

Astrid smiled viciously. "But not nearly as smart." She touched the building, blue electricity blanketing the entire thing, causing windows to blow out, and, more importantly, melt the snow on the roof.

Another shock, and her sister disappeared from her view. Astrid ran up the wall, grasping the rung of the fire escape ladder, and pounded her way up. She was careful to land on the edge of the roof, watching spark after spark dance on the pool of water that her sister now lay in, convulsing.

She then walked towards her, blue sparks emanating with every step. Svetlana flicked her eyes towards her, her body still trembling with the aftershock.

"You're paralyzed for now, little sister. As you know, the electric shocks I just sent through your body are interfering with your nervous system. Your muscles are useless. Isn't that just too bad?"

Astrid smiled down at her. "You can never be me. Does that hurt?"

A little tear slipped down Svetlana's cheek, and Astrid's smile fell. "I'm sorry we couldn't have been friends."

"We…were…not…meant…to be," she choked out between convulsions.

Astrid bent to her knees, pressing a soft kiss to her sister's little forehead. The young girl's body began to flail, then came to a stop.

She stood up, brushing the water off of her leather pants, and sighed, looking down at the girl's limp body.

"Astrid?" Edward's voice was weak. She peered over the roof at him. "Did you kill the girl?"

Astrid shook her head. "No. But she won't be channeling anymore." She looked back at the girl, the crescent shape burn mark on her head, and she smiled. "She's useless, now."

She slid down the ladder, jogging toward Edward. She bent down, caressing his cheek. "You're losing a lot of blood."

Edward nodded. "The phone, you didn't—"

Astrid stood up. "One second."

"Hmm? Svetlana? Is the job done?" His voice was smug. Astrid almost shrieked, but instead chuckled.

"I want you to pay attention to the words that are going to come out of my mouth, Antoine DuFort." Her voice was quiet and steady, no detectable anger in it. Antoine sucked in his breath, the terror obvious. She looked at Edward, her heart twisting.

"I will find you. There is no 'if' in this situation. I will find where you live. I will take your children out of their beds and I will slit their throats, so you know what it feels like to have the most important part of your life found on the cold ground, soaking in inches of their own blood. I will then kill your wife. She will scream for help, and you won't be there to provide it. I will then find you. I will find you, where ever you are, then I will obliterate you. I won't kill you yet, though. I will bring you to your home where your family was massacred, just as my friends were, and I will show you the carnage. You will want to bring them back. You would stoop even that low. But you killed us all. There is no one who knows how to bring them back. You will then marinate in the severity and stupidity of your actions. When you are at the apex of your regret and terror, I will kill you." A faint smile came to her face. "Pride is a disgusting thing, Antoine. But revenge is nastier."

She hung up the phone. She didn't think she would get to see Antoine writhe in pain before she died. But she was going to help Edward. And that was all that mattered.

She would get Edward out of here. She would get him out of this world, one way or another. Because love was about doing what was best for that person. And being away from her was the best thing she could give him.

"Edward? We have to get up." She bent beside him, her hands soft as she raised him to his feet. "Do you remember where you first came in through this world at?" She put his arm around her shoulder, and began to walk with him.

Edward's head lolled to the side, meeting her eyes. "I won't let you."

She ignored him, moving the sweatshirt to the side. A gaping hole was there, pink flesh of his chest completely obliterated. A bit of black ooze came from the wound, and her heart sank. She pressed it back to his chest, and he hissed in pain. "You're going to—"

She sucked in her breath, her mind threatening to shut down altogether. "We need to get you back. Your body will return to its original state when you cross over."

Edward shook his head, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose. "No."

"Edward, listen to me." She stopped, pressing her forehead to his. "If we don't find a way to get you over, and soon, it won't matter what you want."

"And why is that?"

Astrid shut her eyes, blinking away the tears. "You will die. Then, no one wins. Do you understand?"

She didn't think it was possible for his face to turn any paler than it was. "It's a bullet wound, Astrid. I've had far worse."

Astrid shook her head. "I was a Hunter once, remember? It was my job to kill people. The Gun was my favorite weapon, once." She removed the sweatshirt, showing him where the black liquid was coming from. "This is poison. You will be dead by morning if you don't go."

Edward began trembling. "I can't leave you. Not now." His voice broke, and he looked to her, his eyes full of sorrow.

"Where is the rip, Edward?"

He put his hand to her cheek, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'll show you."

* * *

A.N.: Goddamnit, Svetlana. Dumb little shit. Well, I think Astrid scared the poo out of Antoine, but what will be the repercussions? And where the hell is Powder? And Edward? DYING?! NOOOOO - We'll have to find out next week on Crossing Lines! (I now have a new obsession with making my story sound like a tv show, I'm a fucking weirdo)


	34. The Prelude to Everything and Nothing

A.N.: Sorry for the wait everyone, I'm a little sickly. Here's a long'un for you! Thanks to all of my readers! I love reading your reviews, they really make my day.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

* * *

"DuFort!" The deep, booming female voice echoed throughout the office building, and every single hair on the man himself stood on end.

The High Seat, Tasha Ivanovic, stalked in, her extremely tall body folding to fit through the doorway. She was walking at such a pace that her black hair flew behind her like great black wings, her arms pumping at her sides and her lackeys running to catch up with her long-legged stride. When she stopped in front of Antoine's desk, her hair swooshed back into her face, partially covering her horrifying snarl.

"I would like an explanation." Her normally chime-like voice was in a violent whisper, spittle flying from her mouth.

Antoine opened his mouth partially, before she held her hand up to stop him. His teeth clicked together.

"Let me make a point clear, DuFort. If you do not give me a valid reason why I should not rip you, your Hunter, Watchers, and Hound's heads off, I will do just that. I will paint this place _fucking red._" She hissed the last words, her light, steely eyes trained on his. Antoine wondered how many Ivanovics were going to threaten his life, that day.

Antoine leaned back in his chair, the squeak of it the only sound in the room. Never had he seen the High Seat so angry. He groaned to himself, his terror betraying him. His eyes were on his desk, his thumb stroking the stone in his pocket.

"My little daughter is out of commission. That traitor of the Authority has taken away my daughter's _power._ She has done the unthinkable."

"M-madam, with all due respect, she did the unth-thinkable when she became a Necro—"

"_DO NOT EVEN SPEAK OF IT._" Her face shook, her teeth bared. "You had three jobs, Iron Fist. One, to raise my Svetlana to be powerful enough to kill that traitorous slime. Two, to _kill _that traitorous slime_._ Three, to kill the Target. You have failed at all." She stood erect, towering over him. "Do you know what we do to failures, DuFort?"

Antoine let out a sob, holding his hands up and bowing at the waist. "Madam, I beg of you, I know to where the traitor is going. She will be dead before tomorrow, as will the Target. He has been poisoned."

Tasha growled low in her throat. "What poison?"

"Sapa, madam. The Tar."

The woman threw her head back, mirthlessly laughing. "Do you realize who made that poison, you fool?"

Antoine closed his eyes tightly. "The Blackwoods, madam."

She bared her teeth, leaning toward him. "Yes, the Blackwoods. Their youngest, aside from seducing my daughter – no, that traitor – taught her the chemical makeup of all of his poisons. You truly think she will not have an antidote?" She laughed again.

"Madam, please, I beg of you. They will be dead by tomorrow. Both of them, without exception. Agent Or will be upon them shortly. If she alone cannot defeat them, then I shall do it myself."

Tasha turned her head to the side slightly. "I believe you tried that before, did you not?"

"Well—yes, madam, when we raided the target's apartment last month." Antoine swallowed hard.

Her eyes narrowed and she scowled. "I think you know what I mean."

Antoine almost doubled over and vomited. How could she possibly know about the murder? He had gone to great lengths to make sure that the attack looked like a simple mugging. His thoughts took him to that fateful night in the alley, his speech to Draga and the look on her face as the knife ran her through several times. He never touched her.

The woman's hands went behind her back, her tall stature making her even more imposing than she was before, if that could have been possible. "Necromancy is treachery." She began pacing, her eyes never leaving Antoine. "But Dechannelling-" She stopped, her horrific scowl replaced with a look of utmost sadness. "As the High Seat, I, Natasha Ivanovic, hereby withdraw you from overseeing the elimination of Edward Elric, enemy of Mancerkind, and the elimination of Draga Ivanovic, murderer, rogue Mancer, and aide to Edward Elric, enemy of Mancerkind."

Her clipped voice ended in silence, the scowl on Antoine's face growing deeper. One of her lackeys handed her a slim black glove, and she pulled it on. Her eyes were furious as she looked at him.

"The Egress Stone?" The woman held her hand out, and Antoine's face suddenly turned into a thin line.

No sooner than the small pebble was in her gloved hand did she walk out, her heels clacking furiously on the tile floor and her heavily armed men behind her.

Antoine leaned back in his chair, a smug smile on his face. She just had no idea about anything going on directly under her nose. Her fornicating with that blind, blonde disgrace of a Mancer was one thing. Antoine certainly could not call out the High Seat's 'rumored' lover as a Necromancer; that would be suicide. But to let her own murderous, traitor of a daughter run around without being chased down by the best: himself? Inexcusable.

Nothing would go wrong tomorrow, and he would make sure of it. Soon, they would all be down at his feet, groveling as he had to, to this...this...disgrace of a woman.

One little phone call is all he needed.

* * *

Astrid pushed the hair from Edward's forehead, looking into his eyes. The golden of them was dulled, and her heart sank. "Edward?" His eyes barely focused on her. "You need to stay awake."

He gave one of his cheesy smiles, his eyes squinting and those dimples showing themselves. It looked as though it hurt to do just that. "I've had worse."

He was shivering, struggling to stand.

She lifted away her sweatshirt to assess the damage again, and hissed through her teeth. "Sapa."

"What?" Edward, disoriented, looked at his wound. There was no blood anymore. It was a black, thick, tar-like fluid that smelled strongly of licorice. Black streaks radiated from the wound under his skin, and it was hot. "What is this?"

Astrid smiled briefly and Edward looked at her as though she were mad. She set him against the lamppost and kneeled down, her hand going to her boot. She pulled out a vial no bigger than her thumbnail, tiny blue crystals clinking lightly in the inside.

"What…?"

She shook out one, no bigger than a grain of salt, then went to move the sweatshirt aside. "You've been shot with a poisoned bullet. Luckily, it's one of the better known poisons, although one of the more lethal." She bit her lip. "Edward, baby?" Her voice took on a husky tone, and she looked in his eyes. He stared back at her confused. She traced her other hand up his thigh.

"Astrid, I may never say this again, but I'm not in the mood…" His face turned red as her hand stopped just short of the junction of his thighs.

She nuzzled her nose into the crook of his neck, nipping there. "I just need to do one thing…"

"…What?" His voice came out hitched and breathy. He felt as though he were saying that word a lot today.

With a sudden, quick movement, Astrid jammed her finger, armed with the tiny crystal, into the wound itself. Edward barely had time to howl in pain as she withdrew her finger, the black substance coming with it. He looked at her, his eyebrows knitted in pain.

"What in the actual _fuck _was that for?" His voice was choked as he leaned over, holding his side. He had to admit, he didn't feel as sluggish and cold as he did before, but white-hot tendrils of pain still shot through him.

Astrid was back to her old self, stony and unresponsive as she ripped the lower part of her t-shirt, cleaning the sides of the wound. "I needed to distract you. I may have common antidotes for Hunter poisons, but I do not carry anesthetic." She took the time to look away from her bandage job to smile softly at him. "Sorry."

He kissed her lips softly, her harsh and trembling breaths betraying her fear. "Astrid?"

She bent back down to her work, tying off wrap after wrap of black t-shirt. "Hmm?"

"If I don't die, and the time passes…"

"Don't start." Her voice was low, and serious. "You're going to make it to the Spot." She held a hand to the wound, the back of her eyes stinging. "As much as I want you to…" She shook her head. "You can't be in this world any longer. And you can't make it back to your world with your Knowledge, or we'll all die. Surely you know that." Astrid looked at him, that warmth in her eyes almost hidden completely. Edward saw enough to put his hand her face and stroke her cheek, softly. "So we're going to have to find another way."

He looked at her, the idea dawning on him, and he shook his head. She turned away from him.

Astrid hailed a cab, her own hand trembling as she waved it over. The man screeched to a halt, looking from her, then to her profusely bleeding companion. "Hospital?"

She shook her head. "Somewhere a bit farther."

The man looked at her suspiciously, and she placed Edward gingerly in the back. "Look, miss, I'm not taking you two anywhere except for the hospital."

Astrid sighed shakily, her hand still holding tightly onto the bullet hole in Edward's side. She charged up her other hand, placing it close to the man's head. He sat up straight, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. The blue glow emitting from her hand lit up the vehicle, and bits of Drip fell onto the seats, burning holes straight through the cloth.

"You _will _take me where I need to go."

The man nodded profusely, the smell of urine filling the air, and he slammed his foot to the accelerator.

* * *

Powder stood in the middle of the field, Barhades sitting vigilantly by her side. She put a hand on the dog's head, her long white fingers stroking his ears. The huge dog sighed, closing his eyes.

The two of them would be here all night, until tomorrow: December 31, 1999.

The end of a millennium. The end of everything, here, in this little unassuming field outside of London town.

Draga came to her mind; a little girl with black ringlets and always at least 3 teeth missing out of her head. Then, the skinny teenager whose big, angry eyes and foul mouth that scared everyone off. Then, the woman who always came first in everything; the best at combat, the best at sneaking, the best at wielding, the best at _everything. _And Powder was always last. Even dying. That bitch managed to get herself stuck in an alleyway and revived before Powder could even prepare a plan to kill her, then, not a few months later, was drowned like a cat in a sack by the same perfect little half-dead bitch. Disgraceful.

Powder began to shake, black Drip causing her fingers to burn and her lips to go numb.

That night at Draga's house, after graduation, she had failed to kill her. Powder always failed.

Powder knew, somehow, that she wouldn't tomorrow.

Tomorrow, things would change.

Tomorrow, Draga, Astrid, Ziv – whoever she was tomorrow – would die.

And that's all Powder could ever want.

Her phone rang then, the beep of it echoing throughout the empty fields. She put it to her ear without a word. She knew who it was.

"Agent Or. They have taken us off of the case."

Powder stood still, the cold wind pushing her long, white dreadlocks across her back. She shivered.

"Agent Or, these were our orders. If you wish to retain your standing with the Authority, you must follow through. Do you understand?" Antoine's voice sounded harsh.

"They have the Egress Stone?" Her voice shook.

She could almost hear the oily smile coming to the man's face. "They have what they believe is the Egress Stone."

"Our mutual wish to see Her dead is still in order, then."

She heard the creak of the chair in the background. "This stone will allow me to increase my power by ten-fold, if it works as I believe. The plan still stands; as long as you no longer stand with the Authority."

Powder paused. One month ago, her wish to see Draga dead was nothing but that; a wish. One month ago, her standing with the Authority was all that mattered to her. But now that her dream was attainable, just out of reach, she could not imagine giving that up.

She inhaled, the cold air freezing her lungs. "The plan goes through." She did not add on the '_as planned'_. Certainly, it would go as Powder planned. Just not as DuFort planned. That stone would be used to kill Draga, and it would not be used by Antoine. She wanted to feel the life drain out of her. She smiled as Antoine chuckled.

"At midnight, tomorrow, then."

"Midnight." Powder clicked off, her smile growing wider, her now blackened teeth stark against her white face.

Powder would get what she wanted for once

* * *

A.N.: SO CLOSE GUYS! SO CLOSE!


	35. The Truth About Power and Powder

A.N.: Motherfucking plot twist. That is all.

Disclaimer: I own everything in this story except for Edward and anything FMA related. Thanks.

* * *

"Astrid, I really don't think you should go on anymore."

The man driving the taxi jumped straight up in his seat, startled at the first words spoken since Astrid had quite forcibly gotten them a ride to wherever it was that this portal was. The snow and ice flew past the windows, the chill seeping into Astrid's bones and making her feel more tired than she ever had. She glanced over at Edward, her hand trembling as she held the soaked sweatshirt to his side. She could tell how much pain he was in. His left eye was scrunched up and his face was pale. She had to listen to the dull, aching sound of him grinding his teeth for the past twenty miles.

"Tell me how much longer we have." She looked pleadingly into his eyes, her own dark ringed and tinged with terror.

Edward shook his head, his eyes glaring so heartily into hers that she almost flinched physically. "I can do this alone."

She sat back slightly, her eyebrows pushed together and a look of utter hurt in her eyes. She shut them abruptly.

"I've done awful things, Edward." Her voice was quiet. "I've hurt my family. I killed my friends. It's taboo to even speak my _name_ in people's homes. I've fucked up."

Edward rested his head on the back of the seat, his golden hair stuck to his forehead, looking at her intently. "We both have."

She shook her head. "No. You _are _good. The better one of us. Similar starts, sure enough, but you turned out pure and broken, and I just turned out wrong and black. Everything I've done is for my own sense of fulfillment: to see Hassun again, to gain back my mother's respect, to keep my practice alive for Alex and all of the other Necromancers. Everything you've done, always, is for your brother. You didn't think you could just stay here and leave him? Or rather, that he'd leave you?"

Edward's eyes narrowed, his mouth turning downward.

"I am not your brother." She gazed back into his eyes, trying to force him to see. "But for no goddamned good reason, everything I've done since I've met you, has been for you. So, do you think that I would leave you?"

He shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Edward, I—"

He cut her off with a swift movement of his hand through the air between them, his eyes furious. "We have two options, Astrid!" The driver whimpered at the sound of Edward's commanding voice. Astrid simply looked at him, her tired, wide eyes blank. "One, I'm reconnected with my Knowledge, my Alchemy, whatever this is. I'm sent back to my world in one piece through an array, no exchange, and the balance is thrown off and this world is destroyed completely." His teeth were bared. "Two, we go your route. I die. You _somehow_ get a Lost Soul to guide me through the Cloth, using the Knowledge I will _somehow _maintain. And still, we need an exchange: A Necromancer, who knows their way around the Hereafter. And who in this world is a Necromancer who would risk eternal damnation and certain death for me, Astrid?" He looked at her pointedly, his hand pressed tightly to her slim hand over his wounded side. His calloused fingers brushed hers so softly; completely at odds with his tone.

She looked to their conjoined hands, then back up to his eyes. "I think you know the answer to that."

"And I think you know that I can't let you do that." He took a deep breath. "Third option. We can leave. We can go, get out of this place together, and forget. That's all we need to do."

She looked at him, then down at his wound. "There is no third option. You won't live to see next month if we do that, Edward."

He gazed into her eyes, knowingly.

"That antidote counteracts the effects for a while. The wound might even heal. But the Sapa will still be in your blood, eating away your insides until you die slowly, and painfully. That's all the antidote does. It takes longer to kill you." Her face was stony as she pressed her other hand over the sweatshirt, but the trembling of her voice betrayed her. "And I think you know that _I _can't let _you _do that."

He sighed, closing his eyes momentarily.

Astrid raised her eyebrow. "We get there. No plans. Leave it to me."

Edward opened his eyes again, two gold orbs that shone in the dark of the car. "Astrid."

"I know what to do. I know you hate that you can't control this, any of this, but just leave it to me. _Trust_ me."

The dimple in his chin creased as his frown turned horrific, the hurt plain in his expression.

That was all the answer Astrid needed.

* * *

Antoine could smell the cigarettes before he even saw Powder. Dressed all in white, as usual. Her severe, light blonde hair was pulled back, the dreadlocks sticking up in places as though she had a crown on. She was standing as she usually did, her feet planted solidly on the ground despite the shoes she wore, her arms crossed across her chest, mingled inky black and dull grey smoke billowing from her mouth. It coalesced around her, forming some sort of sick miasma backdrop, blotting out all of the morning light. She wasn't angry. This perplexed Antoine; frightened him, even. She was smiling, her Drip-stained black teeth a horrific image against her white face. White everything.

"You arrived quite early, haven't you Bianca?" His voice came out a bit shakier than he had hoped. He stroked the stone in his pocket, thinking to calm himself. Instead, he trembled more violently. The stone felt heavier, somehow. "Eager to rid yourself of an old burden."

She cocked her head to the side, her colorless eyes completely blank. "Have I ever told you, Monsieur DuFort, of my relationship with Draga?"

The man was taken aback. He straightened his vest slightly, and cleared his throat. "I know you were once close friends. Then you were not. Then, you attempted to kill her, many times. Now you wish to succeed."

Powder sighed, the black smoke reaching Antoine's nose, causing him to cough. She ignored it. "We didn't know for a long time why. Jealousy; maybe. But, no, it was certainly over the approval of our father. We share a father, you know."

Antoine raised his eyebrow. "Bianca, your father is the Iron Fist of the Fire Family, Colin Andrews, my good friend. I was there when you were born, my dear."

She cackled, her body shaking. "You and I both know my mother was a whore."

Antoine sucked in his breath. "You foul child!"

Looking him dead in the eyes, she stalked towards him. He froze, ready to strike. "You and I both know my mother had her share of every Family; she loved her Nastus Blackwood, though. She even dabbled with you a bit, didn't she Antoine? No wonder Blackwood killed you." Laughing again, she patted Antoine on the shoulder. "But we both know that she was fucking Aleksander Kovak until her dying day. Speaking of whores: Kovak himself. How long has Kovak been Ivanovic's right hand man? Twenty years? Thirty?"

Antoine stood still, every cell in his body freezing. "Svetlana was raised to kill her sister." He looked questioningly at Powder, wondering now which one she was _truly _made for. "Tasha knew of you?"

"Of course, you fool!" Powder threw back her head, her laugh echoing. "She had you raise Svetlana as a killer, to kill me, because she thought I killed Draga. I would have been in direct line to the High Seat, and she couldn't have a bastard Fire Mancer on the Seat. Oh, the sweet, sweet irony of it all."

"You are in no way related to Svetlana, Bianca. My orders were to make her formidable enough to eliminate those in her own family."

"That's all she wrote, I imagine. Tasha always was a secretive woman, Antoine." She grinned again, her eyes wild. "Where do you think Svetlana came about? She was born ten months after the death of Tasha's husband, shortly after Draga was murdered in the alley. Did you truly not question it?" She shook her head, that horrific black smile on her face. "Draga and I _were _sisters, in spirit. We are sisters in blood. Alex has had everyone under his thumb this whole time, you fool."

Antoine began shaking, the weight of it all suddenly collapsing on him. "I was ordered to kill Draga by any means necessary—"

"_Because Draga threatens to destroy the world._ She's let Draga get away with too much. Draga is a Necromancer. She killed five people, for God's sakes, in a forbidden arcane art. This, though? She would kill her own daughter to preserve her spot as High Seat. She must not raise suspicion." Powder's voice came out in a hiss, ruthless in their tearing apart of Antoine's carefully constructed mind. "But if you truly think that Tasha would kill her own daughter for Necromancy, you are sorely mistaken." She smiled. "Who do you think paid the millions of pounds to bring her back?"

Antoine stumbled back, shaking his head profusely. "No—no. You lie."

"Our father has her wrapped around his finger. If you think – truly think – that Tasha does not know about the Necromancy going on right under her nose, then I pity you, Antoine, and your naivety. You wish to eradicate all Necromancy. You wish to kill my sister, Draga, for bringing you back. You are right, when you say we both wish her dead; but it will not be on your terms any longer, Antoine. There _are _no terms."

She stepped closer to him, her unbearably hot breath on his ear.

"_Everything you believe is a lie._"

* * *

A.N.: ...aaaand I just went M. Night Shyamalamadingdong on your motherfucking asses. God, that plot was so hard to twist up and release again. If I've left any holes, let me know, because the original version of this chapter was a good 8 pages long, and so damn good, but after my computer explosion, it's only 4. So I must have missed something...I hope I didn't, but any help is much appreciated. Thank you guys! R & R my lovelies ~


	36. Wellneigh

A.N.: This was supposed to be up yesterday but my internet is stupid. Ho hum. Only a couple left, everyone. WEeeeeeEEEeeeeee~

Disclaimer: I own everything except for FMA. Thank you and good night.

* * *

"Edward?" She touched him lightly on his cheek. He was unresponsive. "Edward!" Shoving him slightly, he jerked awake, his eyes wide. He looked poised, despite his condition, his pupils dilated. His hands curled into claws, automatically reaching for her, his hand tightening almost unbearably around her thigh. She pressed her warm forehead to his, the contact with his cool one almost shocking. He was shaking, his eyes straining to train on hers.

"Tell me how much longer we have!" Her words were flung at the cab driver, who spent the past thirty minutes sobbing and making shaky bargains to Astrid. They all went unheard.

"N-not much longer. Only about twenty minutes left."

"_Sranje!_" The Serbian word slipped out; an indication of her agitation. Her knee was shaking up and down, her hand clamped so tightly to the bleeding bullet wound that she knew it must have hurt. And yet, the bleeding wouldn't stop. His body was trying to push the Sapa out, but it was failing.

"How much longer do we have?" She directed this to Edward, who lolled his head to the side as though his neck were too weak to support it. His eyes were no longer golden. The white of his left eye was streaked with the Sapa; the black creeping up toward the iris. He simply closed them and shook his head as an answer.

Astrid flung her head to the driver, her heart contracting. "You had better make that twenty minutes, _five_." Her voice was so low and so violent, the man automatically slammed his foot down to the floor, the small car shooting off.

She moved aside the sweatshirt as carefully as possible, but the tar still stuck to it. His hissed, sucking in his breath, his face turning green. As quickly as she could, she placed another crystal in the wound, the tar dripping slowly down his side.

She looked him in the eyes, noticing the Sapa receding slightly from it. She sighed, her head falling against his shoulder. The sun was falling quickly.

"I'm sorry." It was a loaded phrase.

He looked to her, his face blank, much as she thought hers was.

"I know." His voice was low and gravelly, the Sapa no doubt sucking slowly into his respiratory system. She shivered, holding him close.

_Soon, _she thought. _Soon._

* * *

Alphonse stood on the dry, rocky ground of Aerugo, the dry wind whipping his shirt and long brown hair around his body, a cruel look on his face as he stared down at his research notes, the scribble running into one another stuck in a sad, horrific repeat as he came to a conclusion. The sun was high overhead, signaling it was nearly noon. Time was growing short for his brother; time was growing short for himself.

"I have no future in solitude, Big Brother," His whispered, his dark eyes turning toward the sun, the notes in his hand shaking more from his own trembling than that of the wind.

Tears were falling steadily down his face, dropping onto the paper and smearing the black ink there. He breathed in, waving Mustang away from the area.

In front of him was perfectly round black scorch mark in the earth, no more than a few inches wide. He gripped the tough stick in his hand, the last few tears in his eyes falling from his eyes, his face tortured.

"I'm not strong. I'm not like you. I can't sit here and do nothing. I won't be able to live with myself."

The golden sun glared down at him, unresponsive. "I'm going to try my best, Brother. Hopefully no one gets hurt." Even as he said the words, the paper crumpled in his hand. People would die.

"Alphonse! The times nearing!" Mustang yelled from his spot atop a hill a few hundred feet away.

Alphonse waved yet again.

"Do you remember when we were young, and you promised to take care of me? It was in the graveyard when mom…" He cringed, wringing his hands together. "I'm helping you fulfill your promise. I can't…I can't…" He sobbed once, throwing the paper down on the ground. "Not without you, Brother. Not when we just got each other back."

He twisted his wrist, the large stick driving into the ground in the direct middle of the black circle. He began to draw.

* * *

"Bianca, yield. Now."

Antoine looked to her, his hands twitching as he lifted them. Powder braced herself, her left leg spread far from her right one, her burnt fingers bent into claws as lifted one in front of her, and one behind. It was a typical stance of a Lightning wielder. It didn't make sense, to Antoine.

"What are you doing?" He became angry, moving his hand slowly to unbutton his expensive suit. "You know well that I am an Iron Fist. You cannot defeat me."

He shrugged out of his coat, folding it gingerly and tossing it on the grass. He fell easily into the Water stance, his hands moving fluidly around his head as he poised himself on his toes.

Powder smirked. "Do you remember _why _Tasha cast her Draga off?"

Antoine furrowed his brows, his energy beginning to fill his brow. It spread from his forehead to his spine, leaving a dark blue glow where it lit up. It came into his hands, his fingers limp and charged. "She was unruly. Uncontrollable." He shivered as he felt the energy settle into his fingertips. "She sent her to live with Aleksander Kovak. To be controlled."

Powder laughed aloud, a black cloud of smoke coming from her white lips. "She sent her because she was _afraid. _Draga is too strong. Tasha sent her to her father to smash her power down. He just made her stronger." She grinned.

"You knew all of this, and did not report it? You are no Necromancer." Antoine was prepared to strike.

"Oh, Antoine. Poor, Antoine." She shook her head, curing her spine downward until she was poised on all fours; a typical Earth move. He was baffled. "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'like father, like daughter'?"

Antoine gritted his teeth. "You. You're one of the three." He felt Drip fall from his fingers, and he automatically struggled to find his center peace.

"You think I am a Necromancer, Antoine?" She smiled wider, her cheeks straining as the expression neared insanity. "I am _the _Necromancer. I am the _Head Chanter_. Who do you think brought you back so complete, so whole?" She scratched the earth with her hand, sparks and flames shooting from her nails.

Antoine couldn't think anymore. Dark blue Drip seeped from his ears, his nose, his fingertips. The one he had been looking for all this time had been right under his nose.

"Think before you act, Antoine." She lifted one of her wrists behind her, twisting in the rune that was typical of Air wielders.

Just then, he realized what she was doing. He flinched back. "They _taught _you. This is why you are all so powerful. This is why Tasha sent Draga…" With dawning horror, he watched as a black cloud of smoke billowed from her heels and hands and mouth, looking for all the world like a hell hound. "They taught you how to channel their energy. One member of every family."

"The most dangerous job often requires the most training." Her voice was deep and guttural as she spoke, more energy than Antoine had ever seen being channeled throughout her body. He began to tremble.

Her muscles were taut as she prepared to spring forward, the ground cracking in front of her as flames shot out from the earth's very core.

"Goodbye, Antoine."


	37. Put Your Hands Into the Fire

A.N.: Not much to say, really, but here you go. Read and review, and let me know how I did! Thanks to all that helped before, you know who you are! I'll try to make things clearer as we go on.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, but I do own everything else, thanks.

* * *

There was a smell that hit Astrid's nostrils that awoke her with a start. It was a smell she knew well; one that she had grown more recently to fear rather than be amused at. It was the smell of burning earth. Even before the red glow and smoke could be seen in the sky from around the bend, Astrid knew what was happening. She knew Powder's anger better than anyone else, and she knew it would be aimed at her soon.

"Edward?" His color was slightly less green; his eyes half-lidded but fully alert. He looked to her. "The Oracle said that your knowledge would be as a stone; a crystal, if you will. What am I looking for?"

"A crystal." His voice was deadpan as he looked to her.

She twitched, fighting the urge to slam his smug face in. He noticed, and almost smiled. "Before I landed in this world, my brother and I were looking for an object called the Aerugan Madstone. I'd already deduced that that helped bring me here. You just confirmed it."

Astrid's eyes lit up. "So, it _does _make you insane."

Edward looked at her strangely. "You sound as if you know what I'm talking about."

"No wonder Antoine has been acting sloppy and predictable." She smiled, smoothing the lapel of his leather jacket down. "Crazy is his normal."

Edward looked taken aback. "Antoine has the stone?" His voice was low.

She frowned. "Well, yes. I thought I explained it to you; the old woman, the Oracle was killed a couple of weeks ago. Your stone was taken from there."

"You knew where this stone was _the whole time_?" His golden eyes were round.

She watched him carefully. "Yes—I mean, I didn't really know what you were, or what it was but – but I did know where the Knowledge was, yes, everyone did."

"So now _Antoine _has it?" His breath was coming in through his teeth. "_Antoine _has the crystallized form of my very essence and the source of my Alchemy that I _barely _got out of the Truth? _Antoine_?! One of the few people who want me _dead_?!"

She was curled against the car door, her eyebrows raised. "He's already mad, Edward, it doesn't mean anything. And there's more than a few, a lot of people want you dead."

Edward wearily raised his shaking hand to his brow. "I can't even begin to make out what goes through your mind, dammit." He sighed. "Astrid, it's my power. Not only does the incomprehensible knowledge make him made, it makes him infinitely more _power_ful. For fuck's sake."

Astrid bit her lip, her hands braced woodenly on the seat. "Edward?"

His eyes were closed, his face in his palm. "What, Astrid."

"Just how powerful were you?"

He sighed, looking at her from the corner of his eye. "Going by the power you all have here? How much power I would have in this world, you mean?"

She swallowed hard, nodding.

"…I would be very, very powerful."

* * *

Antoine breathed deeply in, his vision suddenly becoming clearer. With one hand he sent a blast of water towards the column of fire headed his way; the other he used to stroke the stone in his pocket. Even with all of her energy open, Powder was having a hard time getting the upper hand. Antoine was not sure how, but he knew it had something to do with this stone. There must have been a reason the High Seat wanted it; why Powder wanted it.

"This Stone is wonderful. Truly." His mustache bristled as he smiled. "I feel…more. More than I have. More than I _am._"

Powder breathed in heavily, standing across from him, black smoke billowing from her lips. "_STOP. USING IT." _She sucked in through both her nose and mouth, a typical Air move, and blew out another column of fire from her mouth, setting the whole sky red. Antoine stood in it, a wall of water blocking it. He stood in the flames, his eyes closed and a smile on his face. The warmth was welcome to him. He rubbed the stone again. He was sure it was bigger before. He ignored it, breathing in the smell of burning earth and winter air.

He walked forward slowly, maintaining his wall of water. He thought for a moment, complete bliss overcoming him.

This is what it was like to stand in fire and not get burned.

* * *

"Miss?" The timid voice came from the front seat, the man's tears finally stopping as he realized they weren't going to kill him anytime soon.

"What?" She switched hands on the sweatshirt, exhausted.

"We're nearing the field." The sky lit up red again, and she shivered. Lifting the sweatshirt, she shook out another tiny crystal onto the tip of her finger, inserting it in his wound. His gritted his teeth, one of the back ones sounding as though it cracked.

The man hit the breaks, vomiting between his legs.

Astrid made a face, her mouth twisted and her nostrils flared in disgust. "Here's good." Edward frowned and nodded in agreement.

The man pulled slowly off the road, his shoulders shaking as he put the car in park. "Thank you. If either of us make it through tonight, we'll make sure you're compensated fully." Astrid gave him her most winning smile, slowly taking Edward out of the back with her.

"With all do respect, Miss Alien, I would do best if I never saw you again." She slammed the door behind her, the cab speeding into reverse. She slowly stood Edward up straighter, but he cringed. She tucked herself slowly under his arm, supporting him as much as she could.

"After you, my lady." He said it with sarcasm, nodding toward the sounds of popping fire and shouts just over the hill.

She looked to the sky, the fire and smoke lighting up the night sky a dark maroon, the shade of Ed's sweatshirt. She gripped onto it. Kicking through the snow, she began to trod slowly with Edward in tow toward the battlefield. Her heart was heavy and so were her eyes.

"I feel like we should say something. Some things."

He looked down at her, his gaze obvious on her. She continued to look at the sky. She felt as though she would lose it if she didn't. She still felt his gaze on her.

"Those things I said before…" His voice was low. She refused to look at him.

"You can take it back, if you want. London does that to people; the atmosphere or whatever. I read that somewhere." Her gaze held onto the sky, hoping to whatever could hear her that he didn't.

"It's Paris you're thinking of that does that to people. You confuse me just fine on your own without the aid of…how did you say it? Atmosphere?" She decided to look at him. He smiled, his crooked, white smile bright against the night. "Don't look at me like that. I don't want to take it back, I just want to say it better." He rested his head against hers, his lips to her forehead. "So, you better make it through tonight."

She placed her free hand on the side of his scruffy cheek, pulling his face down to her level. She kissed him thoroughly, knowing it was probably the last time she would. She didn't realize she could feel so horrible, and so lovely at the same time.

She thought, maybe, that's what it was like to stand in the fire and not get burned.

* * *

A.N.: I don't know if y'all noticed, but I like to have a reoccurring theme in my chapters sometimes. XD Nearing the end; these next are going to be the hardest to write. Wish me luck!


	38. Stones, Pain, and More Pain

A.N.: Getting close to the end folks. What will happen? Who knows? Only me. Muahahaha. *prepare your tissues ladies

Disclaimer: I own everything in this story but FMA.

* * *

Antoine was beginning to get worried, but the bliss took him over again before that worry grew into something else.

He could feel the stone deteriorating in his hand as he used it. The smooth surface was becoming rough; the particles slowly wearing away the tips of his fingers to the point that it was painful to rub it, but rub it still he did. It was an overwhelming amount of power. His entire head was full and pulsating, lights swirling in front of his eyes and everything moving much slower, more clear. He looked up at the night sky, millions of bright pinpricks just beyond the dark cloud of smoke and ash. He breathed in, able to feel every particle of smoke and clear, cold air enter his mouth, brushing by the backs of his teeth and into his lungs, filling him. He could feel the power rush from the center of his mind to his entire body, he felt as though he glowed. He snapped his gaze back to the moving figure, the white, beautiful being looking deceivingly angelic. Her face was a horrible snarl, every muscle visible in her face, as she looked at him. She laced her fingers together, leaping high into the air, and slammed her fists into the ground, causing columns of flame to erupt from the ground toward him. He stood still as the wall of fire hit him, brushing past him and his frozen shield.

Powder was trying her damnedest to get to him, but it was so easy to throw her off, even with her perfected technique and flawless wielding. He knew well that had he tried to kill her before this, he would have died quite soon on into the battle; it was a fact he was not proud of, but he did not know of any self-conscious Mancer who would go up against a born and bred Necromancer without backup. Ten years under his command, and he had not a clue.

Drip fell steadily from his right hand as he threw another ten-foot wave of water at Powder, who was thrown violently back.

* * *

Powder crashed into the ground, the mud from the melted snow making her normally-pristine-white-self filthy. She was exhausted. Pain often didn't penetrate the mind when a Mancer was wielding, but she could feel a stab come from her lower body as she lay there. She sat up, moving carefully lest she make whatever it was, worse. Flames licked up her hands and forearms as she braced herself to stand, burning straight through the snow and singeing the bare ground below. Right when she went to place her weight on her legs, she heard a sickening crack. Her right leg hung uselessly at her side, and she immediately regretted wearing her white platform stilettos to this fight. Kicking them off into the distance and gritting through the nagging pain, she dragged herself closer to Antoine. She had to get that stone from him, or everything would be lost. She knew that he was too big of a fool to know what that stone was for. He saw it only as a temporary high for himself. Even through the burning field and short walls of upturned earth, she could see him grinning. His pupils were wide, and he was looking everywhere but at her. The stone was getting to him. Powder had to buy her time, if Astrid was ever going to get there.

She had more than a few things to say to her.

Powder crept slowly toward Antoine, while he talked to himself and flourished with his hands, seeming to touch things that were not there. She knew immediately why. The stone had a great well of Knowledge, Knowledge that Edward Elric had somehow taken from the Hereafter. Knowledge that could be dangerous if one did not know how to wield it. Antoine had no idea how to absorb that power or contain that Knowledge, and it was causing his mind to overreact to stimuli. She had read and read about the stone, but nothing had prepared her for the power it would give a person, even one who was wasting it.

She had _never _been defeated. Well, except for one person. She seethed.

She had to have that stone if she was going to get rid of Draga. And she was going to do anything to get it.

* * *

Astrid and Edward slowly came up over the hill, Astrid breathing heavily as she halfway-hauled Edward's heavy body on the top of the hill. Down in the distance, amidst the broken ground and half burning, half snow-covered trees, she could see Powder, limping, bleeding, and dirty.

"Edward, I know you're tired and you hurt, but we only need to go a little farther." Edward looked at her, his eyes half-lidded and teeth gritted in pain. She dug around in his pockets, searching for the silver pocket watch he always carried. Flipping it open, she looked at the time. It was nearly half-past eleven. She looked to the other side, small numbers and letters scratched into it. She closed it shut with a snap as Edward sucked in his breath.

"I won't ask." She pressed it against his chest.

He gazed into her eyes, his face turned into a look that made him appear even more in pain. He leaned in slowly, his eyebrows furrowed in pain, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. He murmured something in a language that sounded close to German, but she didn't catch it.

He handed her the watch, and automatically some sort of power sipped into her fingers. She looked confusedly at him.

He smiled tiredly, taking his arm from around her shoulders. He wavered, but caught himself, pressing her fingers around the watch. "They give it to you when you join the military. It's an alchemical amplifier, apparently, but it never did me any good." He looked her in the eyes. "Just a reminder of things past. Time, mainly." He flicked his eyes up at her, the gold of them glinting in the moonlight. "It's yours now. A reminder, if anything happens. If I do make it back to my world..."

She shook her head. "It's obviously precious to you, Edward I—"

He shut her mouth with his thumb. "You're precious to me."

Stunned, she looked from the watch to him. She opened her mouth.

"Shut up, I'm talking here. You're going to go kill both of them, and you're going to do your Necromancer thing," he moved his arms strangely at this, "and everything will go all right." He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Go do your thing. I'll be here when you get back."

"Edward if I die…" she looked at him rationally, but he grabbed her face with one hand, effectively shutting her up.

"I said, go do your thing. Come get me when you're done."

She fell silent, and nodded. Looking down at the ground, she toed the snow a little bit before looking up at him. "If I die, you have to promise not to use alchemy to go home."

He held his hand out. "You have my word."

She took his hands and shook it. She placed the watch inside the safe inside pocket of her over-coat, then looked back at him. "Good."

"You have my heart, too." His cheeks turned slightly red, but held her gaze as she took a shaky breath in.

Her eyes getting wet, she bit her bottom lip, her chest swelling up with such pain and happiness that she almost couldn't breathe. Her eyes danced across his face, his two small scars, one on his broad forehead, the other under his golden eye, the way one wisp of hair still managed to fall into his face. His strong nose, firm lips, cleft chin. His face was fierce; every word he said was true.

She let out her breath with the firm belief that she had memorized his face. "Good."

He pulled her roughly to him by her hand, and embraced her. He just held her, his face buried in the crook of her shoulder, his arms tightly around her. It seemed too soon when he let her go.

"Go kick some ass." He turned her around and smacked her bottom.

She smiled, walking forward slightly. Suddenly solemn, she turned back one last time, watching Edward lean against a small tree. She said nothing, and he didn't look at her, and instead busied himself with sitting against the tree.

Turning back around, she knew in her heart that that would be the last vision of him in her mind. She stuck her hands in her pocket, feeling the bumpy metal of the pocket watch, and feeling her power suddenly jump up. There would be no thoughts of Edward in these next minutes. She had to remember that.

She began to run toward the fire.

* * *

A.N.: The Battle coming up. Stay tuned!


	39. Failure

A.N.: Two chapters in one night, how much do you love me? XD Big fight here. Lot of shit happens. Shit also hits fan. Well, you'll see -

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

* * *

Astrid moved as stealthily as possible, the snow crunching under her heavy boots as she crept closer and closer to the battle. She saw Antoine, tall and imposing as he gazed crazily about. She seethed. He must have the stone. She looked from him to Powder, and saw that her sister had a very similar expression on her face. She automatically wiped it off her face. Taking in Powder's state, she hissed internally. Her leg must have been broken in three places. Judging by the blood coming from her mouth, probably internal injuries or broken teeth. Even now, Astrid felt the sting of worry for her sister deep somewhere in the back of her mind. Fifteen years of being the closest of sisters left some raw remnants when one tried to kill the other. Even the thought of that brought her betrayal to the forefront of her mind.

She shook her head. She needed to kill Antoine. If Powder tried to kill her, she would try right back. But that stone was her main concern. Her thoughts went for the millionth time to the man she left leaning on a tree. She shook her head again.

She grabbed the pocket watch, the middle of her head burning with the power. If Edward didn't feel the amplification at all, how powerful was he _really_? She looked at Antoine, who stood with no scratch upon him, and she felt fear creep into her middle. Powder was powerful. Not as powerful as herself, but almost as. Even with her honed skills as a Necromancer, she had no shot against the power that was Edward's essence.

A wave of snow went to engulf Powder, and she flinched as the woman dove into the air, coming down in a roll onto the edge of the woods. Antoine seemed entranced with something behind him, touching the air and grinning. Powder was gulping air, and limped to the woods, leaning her back against a tree to catch her breath. She peered around the tree to make sure she was out of Antoine's line of sight. She closed her eyes, trying to catch her bearings. Her white get up was filthy, and her feet bare.

"_You're already so pale, sister. You should wear dark colors to make yourself prettier."_

_Bianca scrunched her nose up. "You're right. I'm never wearing white again."_

Astrid shook away the memory from long ago.

Powder gulped in air, staring into the darkness. "I know you're out there, Ziv." She whispered the words, her face defeated. "Does it make you happy to see me like this?"

Astrid shivered. "What do you think, little sister?"

"We stopped being sisters the day you killed me." Her voice was low and harsh.

Astrid frowned. "It wasn't the day you attempted to kill me?" She gritted her teeth. "Remember, Bianca, it wasn't me who started this string of vengeance. Your jealousy did."

Powder was breathing heavily again, wiping her sleeve across her mouth. "He has the Knowledge."

"I know."

"He cannot have it." Powder gripped her leg, pain shooting through her.

"Neither can you." Astrid watched Powder carefully.

Powder stood silent for a while, looking out into the woods. "All I've wanted these past ten years is you dead."

"I know," she repeated. "But our world and someone's life is more important than your need."

Powder began grinding her teeth, her look of anger obvious even from far away. "Nothing is more important."

"You're twenty-five years old, for fuck's sakes. Bianca, grow up."

Her face fell, and her eyes got wide. "What did you just say to me?"

"_Grow the fuck up._ You will have your chance to kill me when you help me get that stone away from Antoine." Astrid sighed, anger gripping her. She tightened her hold on the tree.

Powder was silent, her face childlike and open as she stared out into the trees. "So I can kill you when we get the stone?"

"I said you could try, yes." Astrid waited impatiently. "But don't you dare take a cheap shot when I step out from these trees, you hear me?"

"I promise." She grinned like a little girl, blood staining her teeth. .

Astrid gazed at her warily. "Are you okay to fight?"

Powder nodded. "You've given me drive. I'm okay."

"Alright, if you say so. I'm going to step out now. You take a shot and I'll kill your white ass, do you hear me?"

Powder nodded, than realized she probably couldn't see her. "Yeah."

Astrid stepped back from behind the tree, and Powder stiffened visibly. "I'm not killing you."

Astrid sighed. "Yeah, I see that."

Powder seemed afraid to move as she took her back off of the tree. "Where's the Deathwalker?"

Astrid's eyes steeled. "He's nearby and safe."

"Are you sending him back?" She looked at her, no surprise on her face.

Astrid bucked, and nearly killed her where she stood. Relaxing slightly, she nodded. "You might not be able to kill me quite as soon as you thought."

Powder looked past her, her pale grey/white eyes scanning the trees, then looked back at her, her full lips in a frown. "By yourself?"

Astrid nodded.

Powder shrugged.

Letting out her pent up breath, she began walking carefully to the battlefield. "We'll kill Antoine and then get back to our tiff. Are you firm with that idea?"

Powder sighed. "For the millionth time, yes." Her shoulders were hunched as she trudged behind her. Astrid pointed to her side.

"You walk beside me."

Powder frowned. "So your back isn't exposed, I know, I know." She lifted her hands as slinked beside her. "What's your problem, anyway? You know I keep my word."

Astrid looked at her from the corner of her eye. "You're mercurial at best, Bianca."

"What?" Powder frowned cruelly at her.

"It's a polite way of saying that you're fucking crazy." She traced a thick scar on her eyebrow, her thin finger showing where it ended, close to the middle of her nose.

"Ah, Glasgow. Nineteen-ninety four." She nodded. "I put your head to a cruise-boat railing. It was a sad day for me."

"Obviously, fool, it was when I tossed you into the River Clyde."

"That's what killed me."

Astrid nodded. "I know." She looked awkwardly back at her. "I didn't mean for that to happen, if it means anything."

Powder breathed heavily. "If you're wondering if that's going to make it harder on me for me to kill you, you're wrong. I still want to watch the life drain from your eyes as you lay burning on the ground."

Astrid shook her head and looked ahead where Antoine still played with unseen beings in his mind. "I brought you on that cruise ship to apologize, you idiot."

Powder nodded. "I know."

"And you _still _tried to kill me?" Astrid blinked her eyes, completely offended. "Goddamnit, Bianca. Do you know how long that rode on my conscience?"

Powder sniffed. "I don't really care, Draga."

That name coming from those lips tore something deep inside Astrid. She hid her face as they walked –or rather, Astrid walked, Powder limped – on towards the edge of the forest. "I guess you don't." Wiping her suddenly wet eyes, she turned her attention onto the upcoming battle. "We need a plan."

Powder lifted an eyebrow. "Do I ever have a plan, Draga? Really?" She snorted. "Do you?"

"Of course not. That's why I'm here." She sighed. "I need that stone. That's all I know."

"I need it, too." Powder looked over at her, dragging her bad leg behind her.

Astrid scowled. "I need it more, and you know it. I'll say it again, grow up."

Powder hissed and turned her attention back to Antoine. He was staring at the both of them, now.

A crazed smile came to his face as they both stepped out into the field. "Ah, Draga, how nice of you to join our little party. It's not turning out so well for Bianca, however," he motioned to Powder's leg, and giggled. "I'm hoping to make it a little less fun for you, Necromancer."

"I'm afraid I can't just let the same person kill me twice in a row." She brushed the snow off of her shoulders, adjusting her jacket, feeling the heaviness in her pocket.

She heard Powder's indrawn breath, and looked over at her confusedly. "He's the one? He's the one who stuck you?"

Astrid rolled her eyes.

Powder pointed at him, her finger wavering. "I'm going to kill you twice as hard now, asshole. You got there before I did!"

Astrid looked to her, and poked her hard in the shoulder. "We start the attacking now, dumbass."

Powder shoved her arms down to her sides, palms facing toward Antoine, a typical lightning move. Astrid poked her again. "Stick to your own positions. You'll use less energy and get more out of it."

Powder charged up her arms, flames licking up her fingers and hands, black smoke and Drip falling out of her mouth. "What the fuck do _you_ know?"

Astrid raised a finger in the air. "First in the Academy, remember?"

Powder spit a mouthful of Drip out, the thick black liquid spilling out of her nose. "I can't wait to kill you."

Astrid took out the pocket watch, taking the chain around her neck, and fastening the clasp into one of the metal links so the watch itself hung like a necklace. She needed constant contact with her skin.

"That's the ugliest fucking necklace I've ever fucking seen." Powder was just spouting insults at this point, but this one rubbed Astrid raw.

"I can't wait to kill you either, bitch."

Despite the venomous look she gave her sister, Powder fell into a fire stance, her arms fluid as she charged up, her bare heels not touching the ground. Astrid stood with both of her feet planted, her shoulders hunched slightly as the energy, strong and hard, passed through her middle. Her hands were now as Powder's were, palms facing Antoine, her fingers curled with the amount of energy that passed through them. She threw off white-blue sparks every few seconds. She couldn't believe the power.

Antoine laughed a crazed laugh, his eyes dancing wildly as he let his wall of water fall. "Two against one? Hardly fair, in a normal situation."

Astrid grinned, her mouth a neon blue as she parted her lips. "I'm going to need that stone, Antoine." Her voice buzzed as she talked, and Powder's hair on her arms stood on end.

Antoine frowned, his face horrific. "Come and get it, then."

Astrid looked at Powder. "Are you ready, sister?"

Powder didn't correct her. "Yeah. Let's do it."

They rushed forward.

* * *

Antoine was not afraid. He couldn't be, not with this amazing power. The wall of water he had was holding up quite strong. Powder threw ball after ball of flame, her nostrils flared in exertion. Antoine had to say though, he was surprised when Astrid put her hand on Powder's shoulder, pushing her back.

He watched as she lifted her hands, charged up more than he had ever seen. The column of pure white lightning flew towards him, crashing into his wall of water, causing him to nearly black out. It was so powerful, that even with the stone, he could have given up right then and there. He took a step back, holding his hands up, leaving the stone curled in his left hand, struggling to keep his wall up.

Astrid and Powder stepped forward. Powder breathed deeply through her nose, then let a ball of fire roar his way. He barely dodged it and he leapt to the side.

"What is this trickery?!" He gazed wide-eyed at Astrid, throwing dozens of needle-sharp icicles at the her. Only one hit her, barely grazing her arm. She smiled.

"You're going to die, Antoine. Give me the stone."

He gritted his teeth. "Never!"

Astrid began firing off bolt after bolt of lightning, lighting the night sky up so bright that one could have mistaken it for daytime. Antoine got to his feet, barely pushing aside the bolts with his ice walls.

It was no use. As soon as Antoine would raise an ice wall, Powder would burn it down, and Astrid would begin firing off those impossibly strong bolts.

In an act of desperation, he threw one large icicle at Powder. The girl was moving so slowly that the icicle hit her right in her broken leg. She shrieked, grabbing her leg. Astrid's constant assault paused momentarily. Antoine smiled.

* * *

"Bianca!" Astrid looked at her sister, who was still standing, but holding her leg so tightly that her fingers were turning purple.

"Keep fighting, what the hell are you doing?" The icicle was about two inches wide and about two feet long, stuck through and through her leg.

Astrid stopped quickly, looking at Antoine, who was still on the ground, smirking. "Burn the icicle down and burn the wound closed!"

Powder bared her teeth at her. "Do you want me to pass out in the middle of battle, you stupid bitch?"

"Pass out or die, _stupid bitch_!" Astrid flung another lightning bolt at Antoine, such a bright vivid white, unlike any Powder had ever seen. Always ahead of her. Always ahead of everyone.

Antoine dodged again, slinking into the forest to regroup.

She shook with anger. "Sister…"

Astrid looked back quite suddenly, her eyes fearful. "What's wrong?"

"Come here, please."

Powder's anger slowly boiled over as Astrid jogged towards her. Her dark, curly hair was wild as she came to stand by her. "What do you need, Bianca?"

Powder shook her head, and grabbed Astrid's between her hands. Astrid looked at her, confused, before Powder kissed her right on the forehead.

"No-!"

Powder felt her power surge momentarily before sucking Astrid's dry. Astrid shrieked; blue sparks flying from her hands as she struggled to pull Powder off of her. She felt Astrid's power course through her, almost too much to take.

She let her head go, causing Astrid to fall to the ground, gasping and shaking. "Why...Why?"

"I didn't leave a scar. You should thank me." Powder couldn't help but feel a slow stab to her middle as Astrid looked at her horridly.

"You took it. YOU TOOK IT!" Astrid screamed, holding her hands to her head, her voice bouncing off the trees and chilling Powder to the core.

Powder walked away, heading to where Antoine disappeared in the forest, her bare feet scorching through the snow with blue and black sparks. The sound of Astrid's screams were drowned out by adrenaline.

She took one step into the forest, and could almost feel the exact location of where Antoine was. There was nothing careful about the steps she took after him, the pain in her leg now forgotten. The icicle had melted, and blood flowed freely down her white pants, staining the snow with tiny, sunken droplets.

"Oh, Antoine?" Her voice was sing-song, her hands powered up to maximum.

The man jumped in front of her, swinging an icicle at her. She wrapped electric current around the icicle midflight, stopping it just short of her face. It dripped to nothing as Antoine looked on with horror.

"You…you actually did it. You took her power." Antoine shook his head. "Killing her would have been kinder."

Powder threw a wall of flame toward him, causing him to fall flat on his back. She walked close to him, standing by his head.

"I'm going to need that stone, Antoine." She held her hand out, but he turned onto his side, growling low at her.

She placed a bare foot against his throat, pushing him back down to the ground. "The stone, Antoine." Her toes spat out sparks, burning his face.

Horrified, he passed her the stone, the once-large white-purple stone reduced to one-third its original size. Powder hissed through her teeth, putting the stone in her trench coat pocket.

"I-I've given it to you now. P-please don't kill me." His hands were risen in the air, his eyes streaming tears. Powder looked at him like she would a worm.

Charging up her hand, she sent a stream of sparked fire at his leg, and he screamed. "That's for me."

He let out shrieks so loud, she nearly covered her ears. Instead, she stuck her foot in his mouth, which muffled the sound.

She looked at the man, now reduced to nothing. A maggot. She looked at him as such. "Your time has come, Antoine DuFort."

She stuck her foot farther in his mouth, causing him to gag. "This…" she felt energy shoot through her whole leg. "This is for my sister."

She set the whole forest alight with the energy she passed through him.

And just like that, Antoine DuFort was a crumbly, black shell of himself. A wind passed, taking away the dusty remnants of his arms.

Off in the distance, Powder heard cries. She knew what they were, and her chest twisted painfully for some reason.

She couldn't deal with feelings, now.

She had someone to take care of.

* * *

A.N.: Yikes. What the fuck is Astrid gonna do now? Guess you'll have to find out~


	40. The Absurdity of Love and Crossing Lines

A.N.: My bum snake-bitten finger is the reason why this chapter took so long. You forget you need all your fingers to type efficiently. -.-' At least Mr. Snake is free in the forest somewhere. Anyway, onward~

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

* * *

Edward was running.

He had been, ever since he heard the first scream come from Astrid. He had never heard that kind of noise come out of anyone; it chilled him to the core. If she was dead, he would never forgive himself.

Edward had always been the one to do _something._ Even if he was strictly ordered not to, he would do it, if it meant helping his brother or himself. Fuck what Mustang or anyone else said; he could never just sit back and watch. He rushed through the snow, holding his side as he went. Adrenaline pumped through him, and he felt no pain, only that of Astrid's. He knew something was wrong. No one screamed like that when something _wasn't _wrong.

He neared the clearing; smoke, thick, heavy, and black, formed a wall around the ending of the tree line. His thoughts weren't on the miasma going to his lungs, stinging his eyes; he thought only of that woman, and whatever situation she was in. His head swam with thoughts of blood, curly black hair matted with it, those beautiful silver eyes open and unseeing—

He growled under his breath, his heart twisted and burning as he broke through the wall of smoke.

What he saw made him nearly fall to his knees.

Letting go of his side, he ran full speed to the woman curled up in a ball on a ground. He didn't realize he was shouting.

* * *

Astrid couldn't think. She couldn't see. She couldn't smell. She could only feel emptiness. It struck her so hard, so quickly, she felt as though a plug had been pulled and all that she was swirled down and away into oblivion. She felt her heart beat in her ears, slow and even. Her breath came in out. Her skin pebbled up from the contact with her face to the snow. But she couldn't feel. She wasn't alive. There was no way she was alive. Everything she was…

Her eyes were the first to focus. Black. White. Red. Lots, and lots of red. Soon, the colors came together. She was on her side in the snow. Her face was numb. Her forehead…she let out a sob. The black was the night sky; maybe it was the smoke. The red…there was blood. Her sister's blood? There was fire. Definitely her sister.

There was a loud noise that broke over the rest of the cacophony. Just one voice. A voice that made her insides turn and she didn't know why. She opened her eyes fully, her senses coming back to her.

He looked fierce. He always looked fierce, but if looks could kill, she'd be dead right now. He was running full speed toward her, his huge shoulders rolling, his arms swinging, his legs pumping so fast her mind couldn't comprehend it. She couldn't comprehend anything, really; except that it was _him. _

She wanted to move, but she couldn't. She could only watch as he came towards her, kicking up snow and earth, the black smoke wall billowing behind him like a black mane.

But he stopped. In horror, he skidded to a halt, his knees bent and ready to attack. Why?

A wall of fire erupted between them. It shot upwards towards the sky, nearly blocking her view of him, except for when the flames parted in their wild dance. His face furious, his lips peeled back from his teeth in a snarl so animalistic, she expected him to roar. He did. The sound was torn from him, with one note that rang true: pain.

Her attention was turned from him when she felt hands on her shoulders, sending tiny shocks through her system. She looked up, and saw white again.

"_Why can't we be sisters at school, mother?" Draga was quiet but insistent. _

_Her mother frowned, disgusted. "Bianca is _not _your sister."_

"_She is." Draga lifted her head in defiance. "I must love my sister as I love myself. Father says so."_

_A loud slap resounded in the room as Tasha's hand connected with Draga's face. "Your father is my husband, the High Seat, Dmitri Ivanovic. Make no mistake of it."_

"_Aleksander Kovak is my father. And he is Bianca's father. We are sisters, then." She rubbed her sore cheek, biting back tears. _

"_Not in public, she is not." Tasha looked down at her daughter, so much like herself. "You are brave to speak at me in such a manner. You get that from your father."_

"_Which one?"_

_Tasha sighed. "You and Bianca are friends. Best friends. Nothing more. You may only be sisters in your hearts, where it is quiet. No one else may know, or I will kill you." Tasha's voice was bitter as she spat the final words out. _

_Draga simply nodded, though she did not understand._

"Sister. In my heart." Astrid's voice was broken as she looked at the blurry image of Powder, leaning above her, fist raised in the air.

* * *

Powder's fist connected with Astrid's face, a sickening _thunk _sounding in the open air. Edward Elric was shouting at her, trying his hardest to get around the fire walls that Powder had set up. He would not. Powder had waited for this moment for nearly ten years.

She crouched down, lifting Astrid by the lapels of her jacket. She brought her face close to hers. "We are _not _sisters." She landed another punch on her cheek, busting it open. Blood streamed down Astrid's face, but her expression had not changed. "_WE ARE NOT SISTERS!" _

She landed hit after hit upon her face, Astrid's features becoming more and more distorted as Powder poured her hate into her fists.

"Why?" Astrid's words came out croaked and hurt.

"_You can't have it all!"_ Powder's hands slid down to Astrid's neck.

Her hands tightened around her neck with a force so great that even she was surprised. Her knuckles were white with the effort, and even as she feels Astrid's pulse slow down she can't find the guts to twist her wrist to end it. Astrid's hand clawed at her, her nails dragging down her face, leaving a warm, wet trail that meandered slowly down her neck and soaked into her shirt. Her strength was incredible, even in the state she was in.

She looked into her eyes.

She had looked into those silver eyes so many times, but never had she seen that look that was in them just then.

Her face was the most curious shade of purple. Her hair vibrated from the strain she exerted to try and pry Powder off of her, and she was looking at her.

Her eyes weren't angry. They weren't pleading. They were sad.

Drops of moisture kept splashing on her cheeks.

Powder took that time to realize that she herself was crying. She noticed also that her hysteric shrieks of grief were the only sound aside from Astrid's struggle for breath and Edward's shouts from afar, where before there was only the rhythmic shudder of adrenaline through her veins.

_You're my sister._

She let out another sob, her insides tearing up so violently that she wished to vomit.

_You've done it a hundred times before, Powder, do it now._

Trembling, she willed her wrist to make that fatal twist, biting down on her lower lip so hard that she felt her teeth go straight through it. She didn't feel the sting of her tears as they hit her wound.

_Do it, Powder._

Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees, causing Astrid to fall to the ground, her pulse slowing even more. Her eyes started to cloud and her breath came in hitches.

_She did it to you, remember. She watched you die. _

She shook her head, shrieking. She took one of her arms up into an arc, ready to swoop down and end it. Black sparks began to shower from her fingers.

_It'll all be over, soon._

Astrid closed her eyes, ready for impact.

_Sister, in my heart._

Grabbing Astrid's hand, she channeled her own energy into it, placing her hand to her chest. Powder held Astrid's hand there, pushing Astrid's own energy through it. She felt an intense burning deep inside of her. Blue light emanated from her, and her assaulting hand fell away from Astrid's throat. She curled on her side, coughing. Powder felt her lungs start to shrivel as the current ran through them, destroying them almost completely. Her heart began to race. Edward could only watch in horror as she fell to the ground. She felt the small pop of her heart. Breaking, really. Blood and smoke poured out of her mouth, her final tears falling. She couldn't have done it. She knew she couldn't.

_I could never kill you, sister._

"No!" Astrid's voice was hoarse, and broken. Her face was contorted in pain. She crawled to her little sister's side, her hand trying to halt the blood coming from her chest. She lay beside her, pushing the hair away from her face. Their eyes met.

_We're on the same side, Bianca. _

She looked into those dull, grey eyes, begging them to speak. Powder shivered, her eyes unseeing. They weren't saying anything.

Astrid gritted her teeth, horror filling her every time he touched her, every time she looked at the black wound she had left right where her heart was. She began to kiss her on her forehead, on her cheeks, on her bloody lips that were gasping for air that would never come.

_A resurrected Mancer cannot kill themselves. They must be murdered or die of natural causes._

"You bitch. You fucking bitch. You made me…" She put her arm under her shoulders, pulling her little sister close to her, and rocking back and forth.

Her eyes, for a moment, locked on to her. Her bloody and cracked lips strained to speak. "A life…for a life." Even through her pain, she smiled, her hand weakly reaching up, stroking her face. "I wasn't selfish…for once. Go get your man and use me before I…" She coughed, black bits and blood coming up.

Astrid shrieked, "Edward, come here, now!"

The man jogged over, his hands immediately going to Astrid's face. Astrid shook him off. "Edward, grab her hand."

"Wha—Astrid, you're in terrible shape, we need to—"

"GRAB HER HAND, EDWARD!" She screamed through her tears, forcefully putting his hand over Powder's.

Powder's grey eyes shifted to the golden man, and she tried to smile. "I'm your Chanter, and I'll be getting you home, today. Please keep all hands and feet in the River at all times." She coughed again, black blood spilling from her mouth.

"Bianca, stop. Save your breath." Astrid touched her sister's face.

Powder shakily went to her jacket pocket, and pulled out the stone.

Edward's eyes rounded, and his mouth went dry. "That's—"

Powder nodded. "You're going to have to do this on your own, Deathwalker. My sister will tell you what to do."

Astrid shook her head, her tears falling freely. She bent down, kissing Powder's forehead lightly.

She turned her attention back to Edward. "You'll have to carry me through the Hereafter."

Edward leaned back in shock. "You're coming?"

"If I don't, I die. We only have one working Necromancer, now." She rubbed her forehead absentmindedly. "I'll probably die anyway, but I know what to do to get you out alive, at least. There are two problems, though." Astrid was speaking hurriedly, knowing Powder was dying quickly. "I cannot open my eyes. Only those who are blind in this world can see in the Hereafter. I will go blind in both worlds if I look. You'll have to describe things to me."

Edward shrugged. "I told you I'm not good with words…"

"I'm human now. I can't touch the river, or my soul will be lost. This is not to say they won't try anyway. You'll know what I mean. Just keep my soul in my body."

"How…?"

Astrid sighed, flourishing her free hand. "Like cupping water, you'll see. Just take her hand, close your eyes, and don't say a word, no matter what you hear."

Edward looked at her his eyes darting this way and that. "If this doesn't work, you know I'll never forget you."

Astrid shook her head, looking down at her knees. When she looked up again, she grabbed him forcefully by the hair, kissing him hard on the mouth. "I know." Her eyes were wet.

She looked down at her sister.

"Bianca. You can start now."

Powder turned her head slowly toward Edward, smiling weakly. "Close your eyes if you wanna keep them." He did, reluctantly. Her head fell to the other side, taking her sister in. "Draga...I…" She swallowed, the smell of blood hitting Astrid. "I'll see you around, sometime."

Astrid smiled, her eyebrows knitted together. "In the blink of an eye."

The other woman sucked her breath in, tears coming to her eyes. "In the blink of an eye." She held her sister's gaze for a while, before resting her head back on the ground, her eyes facing the sky. They rolled slowly back in her head as she drew in a breath.

She began to chant quietly, sending every nerve and brain cell that Astrid and Edward had into overdrive. Her voice grew louder and louder, the ancient language crawling into their ears, settling there and making them want to scream. Astrid was used to it, but Edward squirmed, his hand tightening on Powder's. He bit his lips to keep silent.

Suddenly, Powder said one final word, echoing into nothingness.

Edward sat still for a moment. He was not cold, and he was not hot. He wasn't...anything. He could not feel Powder's hand anymore; he was still kneeling, but his hand grasped nothing. His eyes were kept closed, and he felt around for Astrid, the silence around him deafening.

"We're here, Edward." Astrid's voice was weak.

He opened his eyes slowly, and was met with an even deeper blackness than that behind his eyes. Astrid's naked form seemed to float in the darkness, illuminated by some unknown source. Her eyes were still shut, and her entire body seemed to vibrate in the black.

"Welcome to the Hereafter."

* * *

A.N.: OH SHIT GUYS. Only a little longer until we see the outcome of their little trip...I cried like a little bitch writing this part. Poor Powder.


	41. Rush of Memories and Rushing Water

A.N.: Sorry for the wait! I had this in three chapters, and decided to cut it down into two. Too much going on, ya feel me. Two chapters for you this rainy Sunday night. Here you go~

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN FMA I ONLY OWN EVERYTHING ELSE OKAY THANKS BYE

* * *

The silence was deafening as Edward looked around him, always sure to keep Astrid in his peripheral vision. There was _nothing_. He thought, maybe, the few times he'd been in the company of Truth would soften the blow of the feeling of sheer nothingness. In this blackness, he felt it more profoundly, his heart thumping incessantly in his chest as he struggled to form thought. Like being inside of the Gate, his form appeared as he did when he passed through the Gate, lit as though he were standing in full sunlight, though there was no distinguishable light source. In the blackness it seemed more unnatural and jarring. His hand went to his pocket, where the stone hung heavy.

"Astrid…?"

She was sitting on the 'ground', her legs and arms crossed as she sat in the darkness, her hair floating around her as though she were in water. "Yeah. Are you used to it yet?"

"To what?" He gazed around once more into the nothingness, almost to make sure he was really where he was.

"Into the Current. It can be...odd. Unsettling. You're doing well. Most Seers and Waders need years of adjustment before they can stand in the Hereafter." Her form vibrated and moved slightly to the left. She moved her arms blindly around, her face concerned. "Grab my hand, quickly." She held it out in front of her, her eyes shut tight, all of her movements slow and sluggish, her hair moving accordingly, as though she truly floated in a river.

Edward took hold of it, his own movements not nearly as slow. He drew her into him, moving his arm tightly around her shoulders, her hair moving in his face and around his torso. He went to look down at her –

-_They were in Astrid's apartment in London, the slim, long fingers of her right hand intertwined with his left as she stood in front of him, her other hand on his shoulder. His automail limb rested gently on her hip. She was counting under her breath, her sights turned to their bare feet as they moved. Edward tried to keep along with the rhythm, but he more than once touched their toes together. His sights moved from their feet, a curse ripping from him as he caught her big toe. He looked at her, tilting her head up towards him, a goofy smile split her face. He couldn't breathe for a moment, taking in her radiance like a plant to sun. This girl who tried to teach him to dance, no matter how futile; this girl with two perfectly good legs, who insisted on making his only one do impossible things; this girl who he couldn't help but—_

Edward shook his head, trying to focus. "What the fuck?"

"Don't focus on anything. They'll take them." She shivered slightly as she nudged him forward.

He took his first hesitant step, feeling as though he were in sludge up to his head. "Take what?"

"Your memories." She held tightly onto his shirt, being pulled along by Edward's movement. "In case you haven't noticed, you're not in water."

He felt a shiver go up his spine. "What, exactly, are we in?"

"A river; or rather, _the _River. We are, to put it in layman's terms, up to our eyes in souls right now. All the ones that haven't passed on yet, anyway. All the ones that _won't _pass on." Her eyebrows suddenly fell low over her closed eyes, her face looking pained.

"I'm not telling you if I see anything." His suddenly angry, jealous thoughts were turned to Hassun. He could almost feel the other man's eyes on him.

She shuddered. "You won't see anything, Edward. You are not allowed to." She shook her head, almost to shake the thought of Hassun out of it. "You will simply listen for the sound of rushing water and head towards it."

"Astrid, the only fucking thing I can hear in this place is silence and you. There is nothing here."

Astrid sighed, still floating along in the blackness as she clung to him. Her hands tightened on his shirt front, and—

_-he picked her up by the lapels of her jacket, his anger at a boiling point. "JUST PICK A FUCKING SHIRT ALREADY," he yelled, looking at her foolish self in just underwear and her jacket. Her hand tightened on his shirt front, the black material nearly ripping as she grinned. "I want this one." His breath was low and harsh as he dropped her on the ground, proceeding to tear the shirt off of his form, but only succeeded in joining her on the floor for an hour or so. _

He coughed, the memory causing him to shudder. "I wanted to keep that one."

She cursed under her breath. "Don't think of the ones you want to keep, idiot." She patted his chest. "What was it about? I'll keep it stored so you don't forget it, and…" She cleared her throat, "I'll remind you when we get out of here." Her voice wavered. The 'if' was implied. He held her close to himself.

"You're damn right you will. And I'm not telling you, because you'll forget it too, _idiot._ Now shut up so I can listen for this stupid rushing water." He planted a chaste kiss on the top of her head to soften his rough words, a natural reaction for him now. She sighed, annoyed, and leaned her head on his chest.

He trudged through the oppressing darkness, sweat dripping down his brow as he moved slowly. His ears were open to the silence, and he tried his best to not breathe loudly. He listened intently as he moved on, hearing nothing but silence. He looked at his feet, his pant legs swirling around him. He breathed deeply. He never could swim well, due to his automail. He felt panic rise in his chest, and he swallowed it down again. _You're not in water, you're not in water, you're in souls, you're not in water…_He went to grab onto Astrid's hand, as he normally did when he was nervous lately, and felt nothing.

Something deep in the back of his mind shuddered, and he broke out of his reverie. "Astrid?"

He looked down where his arms were, but he saw nothing but blackness. "ASTRID!"

He screamed over and over again, moving as quickly as he could, his arms swinging uselessly at his sides. Terror and pain swirled in his head, crashing ceaselessly inside of his skull, causing his limbs to pump constantly. He couldn't deal with the emotions as he ran, warm wetness spilling down his cheeks and to his temples as he moved, creating floating pearls behind him in the darkness.

_Astrid._

_ASTRID._

There was too much. Too much pain, too much emotion, too much sound.

Sound?

Edward stopped, his eyes red ringed and his face fierce as he listened. "Water. Rushing water—"

Suddenly, he was yanked off of his feet, pulled forward by such a gush of energy that he couldn't fight it. He tried swimming back against it, but he never was much of a swimmer anyway. He couldn't see any difference in his surroundings, but he knew he rushed past so quickly that he could nearly feel his cheeks spread apart from his face. Soon, the sound of a trickling stream turned into that of a massive waterfall, the roar of water so loud in his ears that he screamed, but could not hear himself over it.

As soon as it started, it stopped, causing him to flip onto his back, his breath heavy. He turned this way and that, but could see nothing different. As far as he could tell, he was in the same fucking place he had started in.

"Astrid?" he called out, his lungs spent.

A voice came from the darkness, sending chills up his spine. "Worry not, Alchemist. I have her."

Slowly, in horror, he turned, coming face to face with a creature he hoped never to see again.

Its form somehow stood out from the blackness, though it were black itself. There was no grin, just a grim line its 'mouth' was set in. Edward's heart began to pound in his ears. "No."

It stood in front of him, his exact height, just as it always was. Edward struggled to hold in a scream as it moved a bit closer to him, its arms crossed on its chest.

Its mouth split, finally, into that grin that Edward knew so well.

"Yes. I only tell the truth, after all."

It chuckled quietly to itself, and Edward thought quite suddenly that he had made a terrible mistake in coming here.

* * *

A.N.: See, a quick, short little morsel for you all. READ AND REVIEW, MY DARLINGS


	42. Truth and Justice

A.N.: OH SHIT.

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN SHIT EITHER.

* * *

Panic was the first to set in. He looked at the black figure, its split of a mouth once again a firm line. "Truth?"

The black figure chuckled, that same indistinguishable, sexless voice. "_No,_ no, Al-che-mist." Edward's nerves went numb as that word banged around the inside of his skull. "I am the other one."

Edward sat frozen for a moment. "Other one?"

The thing sat there for a moment, watching Edward with his unseen eyes. "'In matters of Truth and Justice, there is no difference between large and small problems, for issues concerning the treatment of people are all the same.' Is that not a famous human quote? I do not necessarily agree with it, but… You would not know, I suppose, I forget you are on _his _side."

Edward shook his head, dumbfounded. What was this thing?

He took in the dark thing, his brain trying to comprehend the shadows the creature cast as he stood there. It couldn't be Truth. He wasn't being taunted, or at least, he didn't think he was. The thing talked to itself, almost as if he hadn't been with company in a while.

It frightened Edward.

The thing noticed, and took a step back. "Of course, you have very large problems a lot of the time when you pass my way. This is the third time I am acquainted with you. Consider yourself lucky (if you believe in luck, I am not sure what you believe in, Al-che-mist) that you do not come across Truth instead. Such a lonely place." It sighed to itself, looking downcast, or as downcast as a featureless creature could.

"He always sends Them my way, the normal ones, it is quite an annoying state. He only deals with ones such as you. This is the first time we meet face to face, though. I cannot say I am honored, for I am not. It is a strange string of events (if you believe in fate, Al-che-mist) that brings you to me. Do you not agree?"

He winced, his confusion so deep seeded he almost couldn't answer. "I would agree." He looked at the figure up and down, the thing's mouth still in that flat line, unlike the splitting grin of Truth. "Who are you?" He coughed suddenly, his fear hiking up into his throat. "If you don't mind me asking."

The thing turned to the side slightly. "Not at all, Al-che—calling you this, I see, makes you nervous. I shall stop, if it pleases you. Although I am not here to please…ah. Well. We will be entering into a contract soon, you and I, so I suppose your company pleases me. I shall please you back. Is this not equivalent exchange? Your name, human."

Edward shook at the word 'contract', then cleared his throat. "Edward Elric."

The thing mumbled to himself for a while, going through names he didn't recognize. He then said aloud, "Offspring of Hohenheim and Trisha Elric. Your mother passed my way, after Truth sent her through. A sweet woman, as you humans would put it. She pleaded her case well. I sent her on right away. No decision making."

"'Sent her on?'" Edward's hair stood on end, his notorious anger slowly building. "'Passed your _way_?'"

It turned back to him, seeming more placid than before, almost as if it sensed his anger. "Why, yes. You all are sent my way sometime. After Truth is done dealing with you as he pleases, of course. I often send the worst ones to him; no offense intended. I never sent you to him, he just seems to fancy you. Well, not anymore, not after you grabbed that." He pointed to Edward's pocket. "But this is of no concern anymore. You will not be seeing him again anyway." The thing floated close to him, its face close to his. "But yes, I judged your mother, as I judge them all. She was seen fit to move on."

Edward quaked where he floated, looking around in the darkness, his throat constricting. "What is beyond this?"

The thing smiled for once, his mouth an even darker black. "Goodness; light." Edward relaxed. "I can tell you no more. But yes," he went back to his indifferent line of an 'expression', "onto equivalent exchange."

It spread its arms wide, his face as apathetic as ever. "You will plead your case, and I will judge accordingly, and then send you on as I see fit."

Edward ran a hand through his hair, not expecting this at all. This thing was so…so unlike Truth, it confused him to no end. It would _judge _him? "Who _are_ you?"

His blood ran cold as he held its right hand out, extending it towards him.

"I am your Final Judge, Edward Elric. I am Justice."

A.N.: MFHFHFHFMMFMMFMK I wanna write more but homework calls my name. Until next time, friends...


	43. Justice and Untouchable Things

A.N.: Goddamn chapter deleting itself from my goddamn hard drive stop that now! More to come soon!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA or a good computer

* * *

Edward swallowed hard, his mouth and throat so dry he could barely talk. He flexed his hands, his one flesh and one metal.

Justice tilted its head, looking quizzically at the limbs. "You would trade the girl for your limbs?"

Edward broke out in a cold sweat. "No. Never." He said it quickly, lest Justice think he faltered in his feelings.

Justice nodded. "I see you would not. We need something, however. I know you are familiar with equivalent exchange. You live by it, do you not?"

"I am." His golden brows knitted together. "I do." He nodded. "I thought we didn't need anything, if we traveled this way." He gestured all around him.

Justice seemed to curl his lip. "I am supposing the Necromancer told you that." The thing sighed, his wide black shoulders shrugging. "Well, I am a bit more lenient than my counterpart. I do let them go Fishing every once in a while for a soul, if it has not passed on yet. They decide what they want to do with it once they have hold of it. If they fail, it leaves me another eternal friend." It sighed again. "They do not hold very intriguing conversation. It takes but mere moments for a life story to be told."

Edward shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Then you won't mind if I take my friend and get out of your way…?"

"This is not some Earth wielder with his eyes closed, feeling for a soul." Justice folded its arms, looking disturbingly alike to Edward. He shivered again. "This is the instance of two fully functional souls traversing through time and, most importantly, space. Where, in space?"

"A-Amestris."

It thought back for a moment at something Edward had said. "She is but a friend?" It frowned. "Friends, if I am correct, do not let their arm lose feeling instead of wake another up after an activity."

Edward's arm tingled, and that memory fled him. "Please, don't take that one."

"Ah, of course. We have not yet made our deal. Now, do not look like that. I am not nearly as stingy as Truth." It rubbed its hands together, his line of a mouth never quivering. "Let us get to business."

Edward stood ramrod straight, the image of a woman with long, silky black curls and silver eyes smiling at him stuck in his head. "Those are not up for bargaining."

Justice sat down on the 'ground', holding his hand out in front of him. "Sit."

Edward shook his head, folding his arms.

"_SIT." _Its imposing voice echoed in the darkness.

He dropped to his bottom in one swift motion.

"Now. Give me your head for a moment."

Edward scoffed, his arms still folded. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Still a stubborn child. Your mother was accurate in her description of you. Of course, she spoke of your stubbornness with love. I find nothing lovable about stubbornness, but, then again, I do not feel love. _Please rest your head in my lap, Edward._"

Edward bristled at the mention of his mother, and then again at the tone its voice took at the final sentence. Awkwardly, and as slowly as possible, he leaned on his back, the strange softness of whatever the ground was made of causing his skin to crawl. Gingerly, he placed his head in Justice's lap, fear taking over his body, causing him to nearly jump right back up. Its legs felt like malleable marble, like nothing and yet everything. It made Edward's head spin.

Suddenly, Justice placed two fingers in between Edward's eyebrows, and calm fell over him. His eyes shut, and his brain stopped functioning.

It was a like riding in a train. All of his memories flew past his mind's eye, every second thought of every second replayed like a horrific dream. Growing up, easy memories, happy, the smell of pie and his mother's clothing and summer breeze. The death of his mother, her sickness permeating everything in the house and sinking into Edward's bones like cancer, and wore him down. The transmutation. The color purple letting him know that what he did was wrong. The color white, making him pay for it. The jarring, surreal pain of his brother's absence first, of his limb second. The flickering red light behind the eyes of that suit of armor a constant reminder of his failure. Joining the military. Their travels. Finally being able to interpret Alphonse's emotions behind that armor skin. Winry, her ranting, her constant support, a wrench in his forehead. Al. Den. Pinako. Mustang. Dad. Getting his brothers body back. Getting his limbs and peace of mind back. Losing his alchemy. Winry. He loved her.

He didn't _love _her. He loved energetic, stubborn, ridiculous, easy smiles. Black curly hair, darker than anything Edward had seen. Pale skin, like thin parchment. Eyes like the moon. Legs curled up at the window seat while she looked out on the town, a rare case of her smoking. She blows the smoke out like she despises everything, her brows low and angry. He calls her name, and she breaks into a smile, happy again. He did let his good arm fall asleep. She looked too peaceful, too beautiful. Her lips slightly parted as her warm breath falls on his chest, her dark hair draped about her naked form like a silk throw. Would he give her for his limbs, what a stupid question. He'd give his limbs for her. He'd give _anything _for her.

"_But would you give up the memories?" _

Her lips locked on his as he picks her up, his arms tightening around her ribcage. She chuckles breathlessly as he tosses her on the bed.

"_Would you rather keep her for yourself in your mind, or set her and yourself free to live?"_

She feeds the birds in a quiet spot in the park. She loves birds. She loves that they're free. She doesn't like dogs. She says he's like a dog, his tongue always wagging and following after her. He tells her to go fuck herself, she says that's what she's got him for. He tells her to stop coming out in the snow without a jacket. She smirks and throws another piece of bread, shivering.

"_Her, or _her_?"_

* * *

Edward's eyes flew open, his breathing low.

"You have made your decision." There is no question in the word, the eerie voice low and final.

"You know." He swallowed back the lump in his throat, the top of his nose burning. "You know." He shut his eyes tight, taking in those grey eyes and sweet smile. His tears fall freely; he doesn't care.

Justice sat him upright carefully, much like his mother did when he was ill. "Open your eyes, Edward."

"Not yet. Just a few more minutes."

Justice sighed. "Now, Edward." His golden orbs fly open, red ringed and raw. His mouth is in a snarl.

Justice held out his hand, causing Edward to choke back bile. Not yet. Not _yet. _

His flesh hand trembles as he raises it, biting hard on his lip. Its hand is warm yet cold at the same time. He grasps it tightly.

"She'll know, right?"

Justice simply looked at him.

"Perhaps." Justice tilted his head. "Perhaps not."

Edward gripped his hand harder, white light suddenly blazing through his skull.

"Justice has been served."

Everything went white.

* * *

A.N.: Whats gonna happen nowwww~ More soon!


	44. Return to Sender

A.N.: Jeez and peace, sorry for the wait for such a tiny little chapter. Next one should be up very very soon! Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN FMA

* * *

Edward felt arms go around him. This is what woke him.

There was wetness on the crook of his neck. Yelling, laughing, crying.

_Brother, brother, brother…_

"Al?" His eyes cracked open a little bit, looking into soft brown eyes, and feeling immediate happiness. His returned hug was fierce as he held his brother, tears falling from his own eyes.

"Brother, I thought you were gone forever! I couldn't do it I couldn't…" He fell into himself, tears falling from his eyes even more.

Edward looked around him, finding that he sat just outside of the largest, most intricate transmutation circle he had ever seen. "Al…where…?"

"Aerugo. We're in Aerugo, where you went missing. Your hair is so long, brother, where have you been?"

"I…" Edward sat back from his brother, his brain searching futilely for memories that he sat at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't reach them. He remembered a smile, and his heart twisted. The thought fled him immediately, but he doubled over, his hands going into his waist length hair. He was in the clothing he had been in when their vehicle flipped. Where did he go after the car crash? What – _who _– was he missing?

"I don't know. I don't…" His head fell to his little brother's chest, his head feeling as though it were going to explode.

"Where is she?"

Alphonse's confused expression was the last thing he saw before he passed out.

* * *

She didn't know where she was, or rather, who she was, for that matter. The sun was a bright haze in the sky; the dirt and rocks and scratchy grass irritated her skin. She winced, leaning up on her elbow. Her whole left side of her naked body was a bloody collection of abrasions and slices; her cheekbone and eyebrow were biting relentlessly at her. She blinked her eyes several times as she sat up, the sun burning them, as though she had spent a very long time in darkness. She lifted her hand to block the sun, looking around. The smell of ozone and burning earth stung her nose. She looked down at her bare feet, the skin on the bottom of them not in the least bit touched. Following her line of sight, she saw skid marks a few hundred feet long, starting at a black crater in the ground, and ending where she lay. She had not walked to this place.

Her hair hung around her, curling and falling down around her chest, brushing her wounded left arm and ribs causing her to hiss. Her legs shook as she tried to tuck them under her, trying to bring herself to stand. Her hands trembled as she braced herself; her feet burned on the hot ground as she stood. Even as the heat and the dry air hit her, she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as she looked around.

She felt as though she were missing something very, very important. She'd be damned if she could remember what it was.

She looked up at the golden orb hanging in the sky, and wept.


	45. Come to Surface, I Beg of You

A.N.: Long ass mufuckin chapter for you all. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

* * *

The next few days were a blur to Edward. He knew he was on a train at one point; he remembered screaming, demanding to know where _she _was, as memories of him on a train with someone slipped his mind. Mustang had to sedate him in the only way he knew how, which was a swift punch in the head. There was bustle as he was carried off the train, his brother's shoulders under one of his arms. The shoulders should have been slimmer, there should be black hair…He shrieked, his teeth bared. He didn't remember much after that, only hushed voices and the softness of a familiar bed, hand sewn curtains not doing a very good job of blocking out the sun and a cup being brought to his mouth.

On the fourth day, he awoke. His brother was sitting in a chair in the corner, his eyes dark ringed, his nose in a book.

Ed sat up silently, his right arm sore as hell. He looked at it with shock, as though he'd forgotten he had it. Maybe he didn't; his hair was so long. His last memory was driving through the Aerugan countryside and his hair was only just below his shoulders. It was now nearly at his waist. His nails were disgustingly long when he landed back here, but they must have been trimmed while he slept. His hands were half curled in his lap, his nails short as usual. He clenched his right fist uncertainly, as though it weren't there. It trembled.

"I feel like hell, little brother."

Alphonse's head snapped up, his eyes frightened. He walked to Edward's side, looking into his eyes, almost as if he were trying to confirm something. He sighed in relief at whatever he saw, his arms going around his big brother. "You're awake! Finally. You should eat something."

Before Edward could open his mouth, Alphonse ran from the room, hurrying back with a plate of bacon and eggs. He forgot what he was going to say and started to shovel the food in his mouth the minute the plate was passed to him.

"Do you remember anything, brother?"

Edward, in his mind's eye, caught a quick glimpse of black hair. It was gone in a moment. "Not really, Al. I just know I was there for a very, very long time."

Al nodded, his face scrunched up in a frown. He appeared to be thinking very hard about something. "Edward?"

Ed sat back slightly in shock. His brother was suddenly very serious. "What, Al?"

Al stared at the ground. "I…" He swallowed hard. "I almost performed that transmutation, back there."

Edward leaned forward again, looking harshly at his brother. "Don't start. You did nothing wrong. I got myself back here somehow. I'm sorry I worried you. Blame me, not yourself."

Al shook his head. "No, you don't understand. That circle…" He scrubbed fiercely at his eyes, the deep baritone of his voice at odds with the vulnerability in the words he uttered.

Ed sighed. "Stop, little brother." He grabbed Al's shoulder, pulling him roughly toward him. "It didn't happen, so whatever could have happen, didn't. We got each other back again. It's a happy occasion!" He leaned back again, holding his brother's shoulders. "There should be drinks and pie. Lots of pie." _'And lots of drinks,'_ thought Edward, though he kept that to himself. Al sat back, nodding, and wiped his red ringed eyes one last time.

"Winry wants to see you. We kept her away those first few days, when you were…well…"

Edward frowned. "When I, what?"

Al scratched the back of his head. "You kept asking for '_her'_ and '_she'_. We would send Winry in, and you would keep asking. She…" He began to bite the inside of his cheek. "Well, she's not really as upbeat as she should be."

Edward's heart twisted. He was disgusted with himself. That momentary pain wasn't for Winry's feelings; they were for this person he couldn't remember. "You can send her in."

Al sighed again, wringing his hands, leaving the room. He shut the door softly behind him, but the sound of Winry's sudden shouts rang in his ears.

"What the hell, Edward?!" She barged in, her fist clenched as though she wished there were a wrench in it.

Edward simply sat where he was. Where was her passion? He knew passion. This was a tantrum. His eyebrows hung low over his eyes. "I'm sorry, Winry." It was a loaded phrase, but she didn't catch on.

Her face rapidly fell. "Ed? What's wrong?" She hurried to his side, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her. He took in her blue eyes, her small mouth, her expressive face. It was a nice face. A pretty face. It seemed odd to him that he wished to see a face the exact opposite to hers. "We were all really worried about you."

_She would never admit she was worried about you. _

He rubbed his temple, shutting his eyes, trying to hold onto this inner monologue.

_She would wind her fingers into your hair and pull until you felt the pain she did. _

His eyes snapped open, his nose bleeding from exertion. Winry stood up quickly, running to the bathroom. She came back with a warm towel, holding it to his face.

"What is _wrong_ with you? Where did you go?" Winry looked at him, her mouth downturned in confusion, almost an angry resentment in her tone.

He had never felt more a stranger towards a person. He was supposed to _love _her, for fuck's sake. Even at that word in his mind, his innards twitched violently, like he was missing something. _He_ was supposed to be mad. _He _couldn't remember where he'd been for so long.

"How long was I gone?" His voice was gruff; rougher than he expected.

Winry sat back, looking a little hurt. "Almost three weeks."

"Three weeks?" He felt his face, almost uncomfortable with how it felt. It was different. His jaw was wider, his chin more prominent, his brow too. He _felt _different. "That doesn't seem right."

The final phrase came out in German. He felt as though his ribs jumped.

"What?" Winry gazed at him, her eyes a bit frightened. She _was _a stranger.

"I must have been over there again. It's the only logical explanation I have for speaking it to myself." His thoughts were even sporadically in German.

"Edward, you're whispering to yourself. You don't even look…"

"…the same?" He looked up at her, meeting her eyes. "I don't know why it is so, but it's been a very, very long time, Winry." He tried to keep his lip from curling. "Please, just…"

She threw her arms around him, a sob suddenly escaping from her. "Don't, I'm sorry."

She sat back a little, her cheeks two little circles of bright pink. Tears fell from her dark blue eyes, but Edward felt nothing. He _was _nothing.

She shook her head. "Really, don't. I'll come by later, just…" She stood up, walking slowly towards the door, sucking down her tears. "…Just get better." She shut the door loudly behind her.

Edward sighed heavily and sunk back down into his bed.

Winry's presence was soon replaced by his brother's.

He was the same as ever, folding his tall body through the doorway, his soft brown hair in a mussed up ponytail on the back of his head. His fine eyebrows were knitted together, his expression worried. He said nothing as he folded himself into his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee and opening his book again.

"Who is 'she', brother?" His voice was quiet, but searching.

Edward went quiet, looking to Alphonse. Al appeared as though he hadn't said anything, his eyes not meeting his brother's. Stuck in a book was his fine, straight nose, so different from Ed's now mysteriously crooked one. He wracked his brain, trying his hardest to remember her face, her eyes, even her name. A slip of something here or there happened from time to time, this time, it was pale skin. He shook his head at the explosion of pain that took over quite suddenly.

He thrust his hands in his hair, trying not to think of anything.

"I have no idea, Al. I should know, but I don't." He pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, the pressure sending tendrils of bright color behind his eyelids.

_My star. _

"She's…just when I think I can grasp ahold of what she looks like, her image is muddled. She slips through my fingers, just like she always did with her stubborn-ass self and –"

What?

_What?_

He snuck a peak at Alphonse, but he was still reading. "You must be having a memory block of some kind, brother. Maybe you tried to block something out. Some kind of trauma."

Ed immediately shook his head. "No, this is different. I want to remember her, I n—" He breathed in heavily, "…I _need _to remember her. I can't…I can't _not _remember her. My mind won't let me access her, like part of my brain, part of my-" _Heart? "_—conscious won't let me get to her. It doesn't make any sense."

Alphonse looked at his brother, concerned. "Don't worry brother. I'm sure you'll remember her in time, you just woke up after all." He leaned his chin in his hand. "Who do you think she was, to you?"

_Heavy breathing. She liked it when he held her hands over her head and took her how he wanted. Her throaty laugh was soon replaced with cries of pleasure. _

Edward's mouth went dry. "I think she…"

_Fierce eyes. She could kill him. He needed to remember that. _

He stared at his curled hands, even more confused than before. "I really couldn't tell you, Al."

* * *

She saw the brightly lit building far off in the distance. The cloak she had on had been stolen off of a clothesline sometime during the day, but she couldn't really think much more. Hunger twisted her stomach so violently that she doubled over, stringy fluid barely dripping from her lips. Her sunburnt fingers clutched the cloak around her, and she tripped again on shoes that were two sizes too big for her. The canteen and stale bread loaf that a passing caravan lent her only lasted for about a day.

They were a kind people, but distrusting. She didn't blame them, nor fault them for it. Every person she met had dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes; long, aquiline noses and protruding brows, and beautiful lilting accents. She deduced quite quickly that she was not from around there. Aside from her hair, she did not look like them; her nose was straight, and her brow fine, as she saw from a mirror the wanderers produced for her. Though, she felt as though something were wrong with her. Not herself, not her being; just her face. Her jaw seemed to slim, her mouth not right. Her teeth were straight. Not that this was a bad thing, but she felt as though they didn't belong in _her_ mouth. Her eyes were a bit closer together, she felt. It wasn't a bad face; she thought someone might even find her beautiful, aside from the abrasions and the dried lips and sunburnt skin.

She had left the caravan two nights ago; this was the last contact she had had with anything living. She slept upon the hard ground, the white rocks and scrubby dark green brush irritating her and only allowed her as much sleep as her body needed. She was up before dawn each day.

The lights in the distance seemed like a mirage.

As she neared the two story establishment, her cracked lips split into a grin. A tall man stood on the wrap-around porch sweeping, tiny electric lights wrapped around the banisters. Loud voices and the sound of clinking glasses let her know that this was certainly a bar.

She neared the man. "Sir?"

The man lifted his head from the ground, frowning. "Girl, do you know what time it is? You—" He watched as she came into the light, his mouth coming out of its frown. "—hrm, forgive me. I thought you were my sister. Come in, come in. You look a fright."

"I feel as bad as I look, I'm afraid. I wouldn't want to soil your tavern."

He tossed a hand in the air. "Suit yourself. I'll bring you some water." His gruffness made her feel at home, for some reason.

_Come in now, dammit. It's snowing outside for fuck's sakes._

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory.

_Come warm me up, then._

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. He disappeared momentarily, returning with a large glass of water. She gulped it down without a second thought. He picked at her hair, pulling it away from her face, taking in her bruised and scraped cheek and eyebrow. He hissed. "You're naked under that horrific thing, I suppose." He muttered under his breath about '_dirty tinkers' _and led her through a door on the other side of the building.

"Maria! We have someone in need of help."

A small, stout, dark woman turned the corner, wiping her hands on the apron. She looked her up and down, her black eyes taking in her bare legs and large shoes. She raised an eyebrow, then turned to the man.

"Make yourself useful, husband, and go work the bar. I've got the girl." He muttered under his breath and left the room swiftly without a single word to the girl.

The woman came close to her. "Take it off. I'll get a bath running."

She began to walk up the stairs, and the girl threw off her cloak, standing naked in the foyer.

The woman turned around abruptly, then began laughing. "Good lord, girl, I meant after you followed me upstairs. Not much for modesty, are you?"

_Why don't you wear a shirt every once in a while? You're going to freeze to death._

She tried to respond, but her throat was still dry.

_You weren't complaining a few minutes ago, -._

She simply smiled and nodded, her head hurting.

"Come on, then. We'll feed and clothe you, Eloisa is probably the same size as you." She held her hand out for the girl to take it. "If you want a second meal, though, you had better work for it. We're running a business here."

She smiled at the woman, placing her hand gently in hers. "I would expect nothing more."


	46. Yearning and Unfamiliar Places

A.N.: You all are gonna loooove me. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

* * *

Edward dreamed.

He dreamed about pure happiness. There were unabashed smiles, hearty laughter, thin, shapely legs, and pretty lips. He kissed those lips, ran his hands up and down those legs. Joined in on the smiles, the laughter. He was happy, happier than he could ever remember himself being.

Then, there was darkness. Black as night. Eyes of silver that he knew so well were a dull iron. Her mouth was open; blood made a tiny river down the side of her face. She was curled on her side in snow. He started running. He never should have let her join him. It was all his fault. All his—

It was then his eyes snapped open. He was sobbing quietly, tears falling uncontrollably as he clenched his fist, bringing it to his mouth. He watched the ceiling fan, the movement trying to calm him down, and failing. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to come down from this panic he felt. He took deep breaths, in and out, in and out. He tried to find his center; anything to keep him from spinning out of control right then and there.

_Granny Pinako will have hot cakes ready in the morning. You will get out of bed and you will start solving this puzzle. You WILL find her. _

Even as he thought it to himself, he thought it unlikely. She was probably dead, if his insanely vivid dream of her bleeding in the snow with her soulless eyes was any indicator. Maybe he would never find her. He would never solve this inexplicable yearning. He let out a shaky breath, grabbing the pillow close to his chest, hoping to a god that he didn't believe in that the latter was not true.

But if he could only have her in dreams, then at least he could have her.

He just wished he knew who she was.

* * *

She wiped down the bar early in the morning, the smell of stale cigarette smoke and beer permeating her nostrils. It didn't bother her much; she wished she could have a bit of both, but she knew better than to bite the hand that fed her…quite literally. Cristiano was a kind man. Gruff, but kind. Maria was stern but loving, always quick to correct anything she found going wrong. She had only seen Eloise for a short period of time; tall and slender, much like herself, but moody and often found stomping up the stairs glaring. She had only mumbled a hello under her breath before turning and leaving. It was the extent of their contact.

They never asked her name. She was glad; the only hint of a name she could remember was whatever the dream man called her.

"_You're mine. You'd better remember that." He rubbed his nose, embarrassed. "How do you say it in Serbian?" _

_She smiled. "Moja. Moy-ah." She ran her hand down his face, her fingertips light on his cheekbones. "But you don't need to tell me in Serbian for me to get the picture, dumbass." She rose up on her tip toes, kissing him lightly on the nose. _

The man came to her in her dreams a lot. He was handsome; so, so handsome. She couldn't remember his face when she woke up, but she knew he was. His hair was gold, his eyes were gold, his skin was gold; her own personal Midas.

He was also stubborn. Childish, sometimes; his ego could hardly fit into his body. He was gruff, not very gentle, and he was too blunt. He was also too intelligent for his own good, but he was stupid in the matters of the heart.

She sighed to herself, scrubbing the bar even harder. It was depressing, making an imaginary man in her mind.

"Why so glum, girl?"

She shrugged, smiling softly.

"Hmm." Maria looked at her intently. "You're a very pretty one. I don't know how you made you way down here without anyone looking for you."

"I couldn't tell you, I'm afraid, Maria. I wish I knew." She used her thumb nail to scrape off some chipped wood varnish.

She sighed. "At least tell me your name, girl. I need something to call you."

Astrid stopped working, leaning on the heels of her hands. After thinking for a while, she looked up to Maria. "Moja. Moja is fine."

Maria nodded, a wide smile on her face and her cheeks rosy. "Strange name, but nice nonetheless."

Something struck Astrid quite suddenly, causing her head to spin. A map formed in her head, all of the capitol cities of every country in the world, all hammered into her mind, obviously by training of some sort. This caused her to pause, deeply confused. "Maria?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"I feel as though the scenery and the atmosphere here is very similar to Spain, or Italy. And yet, you all speak German," she looked quizzically at Maria, who was looking just as confused, "can you explain that?"

Maria raised her eyebrows, a frown on her face. "I'm afraid I can't, my dear. I've never heard of those places, nor of this 'German'."

She gestured around her. "You're in Aerugo, my dear."


	47. Magnetism and the Way the World Works

A.N.: Sorry for the _horrific _wait, I suck. I decided last minute to extend the story for another arc that I hope you'll all enjoy, as my Alphonse story isn't quite tying in as beautifully as I'd expected with the ending I had planned originally. Here's the next chapter, let me know if you enjoyed it!

* * *

She was sweeping the floor of the bar in the early morning, her brain muddled with thoughts of the impossible. She knew, for a fact, that an Aerugo did not exist. She knew this. She knew every country she had been in, every language they spoke in those countries. She knew how to braid hair and how to break a man's neck with a bed sheet, but she didn't even know her name. She couldn't remember if she had family, or friends. Maybe she was mad. Maybe she was dead, even.

_Impossible. You would know if you were dead. Not like it hasn't happened before._

She shook her head, her mouth going dry. What the hell?

The memory was swept away from her; a confusing pain left in its wake. She clenched the silver pocket watch around her neck, the only thing that she had when she had landed here. _Don't forget 3 OCT 10_. Maybe she was from the future. She'd snicker sometimes at the black humor of it. It didn't make any sense. It should be the year 1999 or so. She couldn't even remember if _that _was right.

The only time coherent memories came were when she would think of the gold man. Often times, these memories, (if that's what they were) were in her apartment in London, and snippets of what happened there that often made her blush. She was thinking of a certain time on the carpet in the bedroom when Cristiano came in.

"Fuck!" His voice was soft and angry.

She blushed even harder, biting back a grin. Maybe they could read minds in this place.

"Sorry?"

He was startled, jumping slightly as he turned towards her.

"Moja." He looked weary as he gazed at her. "I apologize, I normally don't use such language." His accent tripped over her name as usual, but she ignored it.

"What's left you in such a state?" She stopped sweeping, looking up at him, her eyebrows furrowed.

He sighed, taking the chair off of one of the tables and sitting in it, his hands laced in front of him. His knuckles were white. "The bar it's…" His breath came out in a loud _whoosh_.

She tilted her head, a frown settled heavy on her face. "What's happened?"

Cristiano looked gravely up at her. "Aerugo is a nice country. We normally stay out of the wars up north, we keep to our business and we do just fine. But some kids these days, they…" He shook his head. "They get bored, and think they can run the place."

"Someone's hassling you." Her spine shook slightly at the thought of someone taking advantage of Cristiano and Maria, even Eloise.

He nodded. "To put it lightly, yes. They think they can enforce a tax on nothing. They're not even government." He sighed again, leaning his leathery cheek on his hand. "They're coming by today. It would be best if you just stayed behind the bar and gave them what they want."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the wooden doors flew open, hitting the walls hard. She turned her furious gaze to the group of men who walked in.

They all had their heads half-shaved, the left side of their heads a polished brown. She raised her lip.

"Go on now, Moja. Pour the boys what they'd like." Cristiano said it low, ushering her with his hands, but they still heard him.

"Yeah, _Moja._" It was a younger one. They were all young, most of them younger than even her. "What kind of a name is that?"

She rolled her shoulder and closed her eyes as she walked behind the bar, her back facing them. She had already plotted out one-hundred and twenty-six ways to kill them all, painfully. She turned around again, a vicious frown on her face.

"Come on now, pretty. Smile for Juan." Another piped up, leaning an elbow on top of the bar, his eyes directly on her breasts. She wished he'd grab one so she could chop his hand off. Her hand moved slowly toward the machete sheathed under the bar for unruly customers.

A larger man pushed his way towards the front of the pack. He moved his hand smoothly across the bar, knocking Juan's elbow off. "Mmm. Pretty, indeed. New employee, Cristiano?"

Cristiano simply nodded.

The large man held his hand out, his eyes on hers. "I am Pedro."

She gingerly placed her hand in his. A smile formed on his face, and he held her hand too tightly to be let free. He brought it close to his face.

Something about his eyes, she didn't like. She'd been trained to pick it out, and she had. Her heart beat a tattoo against her chest.

"Leave, Pedro," She said it low, her eyes directly on his, "or I'll make you."

The smile fell from his face, and he gripped her hand even harder. The men around him gasped and murmured at what she had said. "How, exactly," he placed his lips roughly to her hand, "do you plan on doing that, bitch?"

_Bitch._

_The word rang through her head, and she almost smiled._

_His face._

_She remembered his face, the way it looked when he'd call her that. Edw~_

She snapped to the present, her brain processing what the large, ugly man just called her. "Excuse me?"

He yanked on her hand, pulling her across the bar, his mouth close to her ear. A short knife was felt pressed against her neck. "I think you heard me, bitch."

Cristiano called from across the room, "Moja, don't—"

Something snapped. Her fingertips touched the machete hilt, and the movements came naturally after that. She had a firm grip on the machete as she leapt into the air, one knee braced on the bar, the other propelling her up and forward. Her arm came up in an arc; her movements fluid as she sank the blade of the machete into Pedro's skull with a dull sucking sound. Blood spat on her face, and in her peripheral vision she saw Cristiano sink to the floor in a faint.

She pulled the heavy knife out of his head, and the fat man fell to the floor, absolute silence carrying over the entire bar. Suddenly, one of the younger ones bent over and vomited all over the floor.

"_I HAVE TO CLEAN THAT UP!" _She shrieked, pointing the now bloody weapon towards the boy.

She stood up on the bar, her legs shaking. All of the boys stood still and silent, watching her in horrified awe. She took a deep breath, talking softly. The boys picked up every word.

"If I see any of you, or anyone who looks like you, around this bar again for the rest of my natural born life, I will _fucking end you_." She looked each boy in the eye, the sounds of whimpers coming from them. "_AM I UNDERSTOOD?" _She screamed, causing the boys to run out the door, some of them wetting their pants while they did. It took three of them to haul Pedro out.

She sighed, wiping each side of the machete on her dress.

Silence took over, but not for long. A soft chuckle came from the other side of the room.

Maria stood in the door frame. "It's about time someone stood up to them, but did you really need to kill Pedro? He was dumb and disgusting, but also a little slow." She shrugged, looking from the puddle of blood on the floor and to Cristiano, who was out cold on the floor. "Hide that well on your way back up North."

She gestured to the watch secured around her neck.

The younger woman looked up, confused. "What?"

Maria sighed, taking her cloth from her waistband and wiping her hands. "The minute I saw that watch when you dropped that cloak your first night here, I knew what you were. I don't know how you got down here or why you lost your memory, but you had better head back to Amestris, and soon."

Moja frowned, her brows knitted, her heart hurt. "But…why?"

"Because, my dear. We don't like State Alchemists down here."

She began to walk away, then turned her head towards her, a sad frown on her face. "Clean the mess up. I'll help you pack."

* * *

Edward sat at the breakfast table, the awkwardness of it almost painful.

Pinako sat in her own little world at the head of the table, a paper in her hands and coffee in her hand. Winry was sniffing a lot, pushing her hot cakes around on the table. Alphonse kept glancing between Edward and Winry and sighing.

Edward was gritting his teeth. He couldn't even enjoy his hotcakes.

"Edward?"

He flicked his eyes up toward Pinako, her rattily old voice still holding some command over his inner child.

"I know you're not happy here." Her steely grey eyes were intent on his. Alphonse choked on his hotcake, and Winry wiped her nose on a napkin.

"Granny, it's not that, I—"

"_Boy._" Edward's mouth snapped shut. "You're like your father, never in one place. Go. We see you're okay. Grown a bit, and solemn, but okay." Her eyes fell back to the paper. "Just call every once in a while, so we know you're okay."

Edward sighed, pushing his plate forward. "Thanks, Granny." He stood up, ducking to miss the wooden beams in the kitchen. He remembered unable to reach them while jumping. "But I'm afraid I wouldn't know the first place to go for answers."

He turned to leave, but Pinako stopped him.

"Central, you fool boy." She looked up from her paper. "Central is where all the information is in the world, am I right?"

_No, that would be Truth. _

Edward turned to walk out the room, his legs shaky as he walked up the stairs.

_Close enough. _


	48. Heartache for the Both of Us

A.N.: Oh my fucking God I humbly apologize for the wait. Talk about ridiculous. Anyway, here's the next couple of chapters I just tidied up! Read and review my friends!

Disclaimer: still don't own anything

* * *

Edward sat at his window, his half-packed suitcase next to him, his eyes outside and his mind a thousand miles away.

He didn't think he'd experienced something like this feeling before. It was a yearning of some kind; not like the grim determination to get Al's and his body back, but a horrific burning inside of his chest, as though he had an internal wound. He clutched his chest, his eyes burning. He waited for the pain to subside, but it didn't. The smell of vanilla and spice was faint, but definitely there. He closed his eyes, sinking his face into his free hand, trying his hardest to remember her face. He was horrified to find the burning intensified. His nose soon joined in on the painful assault, causing tears to spring forth from his eyes.

_Why can't I just…I can't…fucking remember, god damn it, what are you missing? _

He sighed, his calloused hands shaking as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Déjà vu."

He closed his eyes at the voice from the doorway, refusing to turn towards her. "Winry? Not now, please."

She ignored him, walking quietly into the room. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, leaning her head on top of his. "Déjà vu. Only, last time, you wanted to hold me as much as I wanted to hold you."

He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. "Please. It's not fair to you. Just come back when—"

"'Come back.' That's it. That's all I wanted to say. I know you won't, but…" She moved her hand slightly, wiping away a tear. "No, that's not fair to _you_." He felt her cheek rise against his as she smiled. "You've grown up, Edward. I remember when we'd argue, and I'd have that wrench two inches deep in your forehead. We'd sit and eat our cakes on the hill, right there—"she pointed out the window to a spot he knew well, "—and we'd get into another fight. We always fought. Until a few years ago, when we both stood on a train platform and we agreed on something, for once."

"If I remember correctly, we didn't agree. You stood right in front of me and disregarded equivalent exchange. I loved you for that." He added the latter as almost an afterthought. He cleared his throat; his voice was ragged from the tears still burning his throat.

"At least you can admit it now. Like I said, you've grown up. You just left the rest of us behind, that's all."

Edward looked away from the window, the burning in his chest now from guilt. "I've abandoned you all."

She shook her head violently. "I won't say abandon. That's a word I won't use. You would never abandon us; you wouldn't abandon anyone. It's not in your nature." She smiled again, leaning on him. "It was always destined that we'd end up together; Pinako, mom and dad, everyone who watched us grow up thought we would…" She sighed. "Growing up means you come to conclusions. Our conclusion is that we won't end up together. I'm not an idiot, I know. I'm just too stubborn. You've grown up, Edward. You get that, now. It's just going to take me a little longer to grow up, too."

Edward smiled sadly, his hand gently touching the forearm around his neck.

Winry kissed him on the cheek, her touch light as her lips lingered there.

"Goodbye, Winry Rockbell."

Her lips were still on his cheek. "Goodbye, Edward Elric. I hope you find your '_she'_."

"I hope you find your '_he_'." He turned his head, his lips touching hers. There was no heat, no passion. It was just miming what he couldn't say. He felt a warm wetness roll from her cheek to his.

She slowly took her arms from him, never looking at him. She turned on her heel, walking as quickly as she could out of the room. Edward caught but a glimpse of her; her blonde hair, swaying as she walked away from him for the last time. He didn't know why, but it was wrong to love her. Her hair was the wrong color. The way she walked was wrong; there was still that childish prance in her step, that little way of walking heel-toe that made him think of the child he had known twenty years ago. _She _walked like there was a weight on her shoulders, but still able to carry it poised on her delicate toes and able to move silently in and out of a room like she hadn't existed; like she hadn't taken his breath away with one simple movement.

He turned away, and didn't look back. He couldn't, not anymore.

His hands were steady as he grabbed another book and placed it in his suitcase, sandwiched between his clothing and shoes. He traced the transmutation circle on the front.

_Whenever I see circles, I'll think of you._

His eyes blanked, the memory delicately singing through his head. He traced the circle once more with his finger, then was attacked by a strange question.

"Alphonse?" His voice was slightly panicked as he called out to his brother. "Alphonse!"

He heard the creaking of floorboards as his brother ran towards his room.

"Brother? What's wrong?" His eyes were wide as he ran towards his brother.

Edward's eyes were still on the book in his hands as he shook. "Do you think…"

"Brother…?"

Edward slowly put his hands together.

"Brother, please don't try again. If you couldn't do it before you disappeared, surely…"

A blue light emanated from his hands, bathing the whole room in a white-blue light.

He doubled over, grasping at his head as the Knowledge ran through it. He couldn't hear Alphonse's concerned yells as he fell to his knees.

"_You know I can't dance." He frowned. "I don't even know why you try. You've got two perfectly good legs—" _

"_You've got two perrrrfectly good legs, walk on them. Same old shit, different day." She badly mimicked his accent and tilted her face up, towards him. _

_Her face. _

"Al, her face. I can…"

_A thin, elven face. Tiny nose. Large lips, pink and shiny as she smiled. Her eyes. Her huge, silver eyes. "What are you looking at, idiot?" _

"_I'm looking at Astrid."_

"Astrid." He said it under his breath, his voice raspy as he suddenly came to.

"Edward, say something that makes sense." Alphonse had set him in a chair and was shaking him by the shoulders.

Ed looked at his brother, tears in his eyes. "I can…" He looked down at his hands.

"Yes, it's wonderful that you can transmute again, but what happened? Why did you suddenly go blind and muttering under your breath? Are you feeling all right?"

Tears fell freely now. "I remember her."

Al's eyes widened.

_I remember you, Astrid. _


	49. Being Unsure and Sure Goodbyes

A.N.: Second chapter, as promised. :D Now I'm off to finish Lovely Complex and my hefty glass of wine. Good night, my friends!

Disclaimer: i don't own fma

* * *

Moja stood on the front porch of the tavern, leaning against the post, a cigarette hanging out of her lips. A solitary present from Eloise. Her parents didn't know, as she so violently told her, and if she told them, 'there would be hell to pay', as she so eloquently put it. Apparently, the machete-in-the-head incident had not yet reached her. Astrid simply smiled at the girl and walked outside. Maria had explained some time ago that Eloise's horrific attitude was due to the death of her older sister a few months ago. Maria's eyes did not waver as she spoke of her other daughter, however briefly. Moja's heart was heavy with the few words she gave her, though. Her daughter looked so much like her. She couldn't fault Eloise for hating her so. For some reason, Moja's mouth went dry, as though she were guilty for the girl's death.

She looked out over the dry landscape, with its tall, skinny, pointy dark green trees and the rocky hillsides, and sighed. The dress she wore was Eloise's, (her eighth-best, she told her when she threw it at her), which was a bit short at the ankles and far too tight in the breasts, but she didn't complain. It was of a soft dark blue cotton; simple, comfortable, suitable for this small, solitary life. A life she would soon leave.

She felt Maria come up behind her.

"My dear," she held out the now-shining silver pocket watch to her. Moja quickly took it, holding it close to her chest. She gave the older woman a wary glare. Maria let out a small, sad smile. "I never did thank you for disposing of those thugs. I appreciate it." She sat down on the steps at Moja's feet, and Moja followed suit.

"Let me tell you a story, Moja." Maria's eyes set into a far off look.

Moja listened raptly, her eyes fixed on Maria's profile. "Go on."

Maria sighed. "I once didn't know who I was. Not, of course, like your amnesia, but I was a confused girl with many problems and no idea how to fix them." She looked towards Moja, her expression hardening. "I traveled everywhere from Xing to Drachma, Creta to the Eastern Desert, trying to find myself. I never truly did." She gestured to the place around her, the beat up wood structure that she called home. "Life with Cristiano is easy. I can forget things. What happened to Ishval, though…" She shook her head. "I can never forgive the Amestrian government for that. Even trying to storm our borders all those years ago…? Fah!" She spit on the ground. She then turned to Moja, her hand on top of hers. "I don't know if you are a State Alchemist, or if someone who loved you was, but you cannot stay here. You will die. Not because of your looks; you do not look like an alchemist. You will die the moment that watch appears from its hiding. I would not turn you away. Never. I would be proud to call you my own child. I understand you; I feel that that kindness in you, as well as that bloodthirsty violence that you have a time trying to conceal. What I am doing now is for your own protection, which I hope you understand. When you go…" Maria scrubbed at her brown eyes, her nose turning red. "When you go, keep it safe. Keep yourself safe; I know you can. Do not hold this against me, for I do love you."

Moja smiled softly. "I don't remember much, but I do know that no one has shown me such kindness. I know no love for my own mother, whoever she is; only a deep loathing that words can not express. You have been a mother that I've never known. I am thankful for our time together, even though it was brief." She leaned over, kissing her soundly on the cheek. "You fed and clothed me when no one else would. I will never forget you."

"Goodbye, child of no-one." She stood, retreating slowly into the house. She came out shortly afterward, a small packed bag and the recently-cleaned machete in her hand. It sailed in the air, landing back in her hand. She reached out, the machete being extended hilt-first. Moja took it with gratitude.

"Goodbye, Maria." She smiled softly at her, and she heard the older woman's breath hitch.

"You do so look like her." Her voice grew weary and far-off, and she shook her head. "But you are not her, are you, Moja?"

Moja turned away from the woman, her wet eyes on the horizon. "As you said, Maria. I'm a child of no one." She padded down the steps, the bag on her back, the pocket watch firm in one hand and the machete in the other.

She turned toward the woman one last time, but continued walking. She wouldn't stop. "I'm going to thank you again. I'll never forget you."

Maria laughed heartily. "I doubt that. Good luck, girl." She waved. "Keep in that direction. You'll hit Amestris in four days time."

Moja waved back, her eyes on the horizon. The sun rose on it, gold and heavy over the land. In her mind's eye, she faintly remembered hair that golden falling through her fingers.

"I'll find you, soon enough, my Adonis." The pocket watch grew heavy in her hand, and she tucked it safely in her bag.

Amestris. Maybe she'd find him there.


	50. Long Walks and Dances on Blacktops

A.N.: I'm finally moved, and my internet up and running! Sorry for the wait! R&R. Onward!~

Disc.: I don't own FMA

* * *

Moja walked slowly along the road, kicking up dust as she went.

The past two days had gone just about how she had expected. Her once-alabaster skin was toasted to a golden-brown. She absentmindedly rubbed some of the salve that Maria had packed in her bag on her nose. Fucking sun. Fucking sunburn. Fucking freckles that were popping out all over the bridge of her nose.

"_I like your dumb fucking freckles." _

She stopped suddenly, feeling as though her insides were being torn out. For the love of God, she deeply missed a man that she couldn't even remember. She clenched both of her hands to her stomach, breathing deeply.

"_Goddammit, I want you right now." _

She fell to her knees, a small sob escaping her throat, her face stony. Why?

Something was wrong. She couldn't put her finger on it, but whatever it was caused a nerve in her forehead to tick and bile welling up in the back of her throat. She wished she could remember who he was and what happened to him.

She fell onto her bottom, her arms still across her stomach. She raised her head and turned around, the burning in her nose subsiding as she looked out over the valley from the mountain she was ascending. The land was a combination of rolling hills covered in brush and jagged rocks. She frowned as the wind tossed her hair about, blowing its hot breath upon her relentlessly. _It was cold, when you were mine. _

She shrugged, as if to take a weight of her shoulders. It didn't work. Turning her back on the valley, she shakily stood, her arms still in a vice like grip on her sides. Slowly taking one step after the other, she continued her steady climb upwards, unaware of the tear that slipped down her cheek.

Her voice was quiet as she uttered words that no one would hear, or certainly understand.

"Do you love me still?" She shuddered, her voice shaking. "Do you even remember me?"

_Quit trying to remember. _The sickening lump in between her ribs began to grow, bringing her close to physical pain. She continued walking. _If you stop here, Astrid, you're going to fucking die. Keep walking. Keep fucking walking. You've been worse. _

She started at the name resounding in her head, but she walked on, her mind still stuck on trying to push down the pain that threatened to take her down. Dots swirled in her vision; the feeling was akin to being shot several times. Thousands of pinpricks spreading through her chest causing her entire body to shake. _You were stabbed in prison once, Astrid. Good times. _

Prison?

She bent forward at the waist, vomiting what little bit of bread she had eaten that day. The last of the rations Maria had given her. _You had to be a Maria, once. _

Moja shook her head, bringing a shaking hand to her head. She closed her eyes.

_It was a melted and sharpened toothbrush. Fifteen times in the side. Impossible that you'd forget such a thing. You didn't see her coming, you know. _

Her fingers shakily brushed her side, checking quickly for scars. There was nothing. _Fifteen little round, angry purple craters in your side. Fifteen added to the hundreds of others on your disgusting body. He never asked you about them. You never told him. He always worried about you, even though he didn't say anything. He's not the type to say anything._

Fucking shit. Goddamn, fucking shit. What kind of memory was this?

_You should be dead, but you're not. Your mother made that quite clear. You're worse than dead, now. You're walking around in someone else's body. Don't go and try to make it yours, idiot. _

There was darkness all around her. She was submerged in water, but she could breathe.

_"You think you're tough shit, mamí?"_

* * *

Quite suddenly, a memory hit her with such force that she felt she was there again. It was a sunny day, the sky blue and the stone walls of the penitentiary a flat grey. She sat with her back to the wall as always. She could watch the entire yard that way. She had learned that her first time in prison; she didn't have to be told twice that you never leave your back open. A woman was in front of her. Astrid's name was Maria in here; another alias, another kill. In for that, as usual. The other woman was too, among theft, arson, drug trafficking and prostitution; Astrid knew her as Angel. Angel of Death they called her; she was in for all day and a night, as they called it. Life without parole. Typical murder jacket in the Block. They were all wary of her in there. She called the hits, the hits were carried out, life went on. But they all watched out for her; you don't fuck with Angel.

Astrid's eyes flicked up to the woman, and she took another drag off her cigarette, not saying anything. Of course, calling it a cigarette was a stretch; she paid ten dollars for it and it was made from half-burnt tobacco from road-kill cigs and rolled up in toilet paper. Three months was her new record for going without beef. Her eyes never left Angel's as she crushed what was left of the cigarette under her cheap prison shoes. She blew out the remainder of the smoke, leaning back against the wall, continuing to say nothing. Her English was still rusty, but she understood the tone.

"_Voy a estar aquí por un tiempo. No pienso en comenzar una mierda_." _I'm gonna be in here for a while. I don't plan on starting shit. _

The corner of Angel's mouth flicked up. Whether it was a smile, or scorn, Astrid would never know. Angel did slip into Spanish though. "Where you from, bitch?"

Her prison blues were only buttoned at the top button, and as the wind blew her shirt about, Astrid saw the yellow piece of plastic sticking out of her waistband.

Astrid looked down at it slowly, her mouth forming into a firm line. Angel took a few steps forward, her face twisted in what may have been a smile. Their noses would have touched if Astrid hadn't been a good head taller than her. "You got a nice mouth, bitch." She barked at her, licking her lips. The women behind her laughed, and Astrid saw her hand going to the toothbrush.

Astrid simply frowned, looking out onto the yard. She'd watched the yard those past three months. About a twenty second reaction time for the snipers to shoot on the yard. Twenty seconds to keep from dying. "A dance on the blacktop it is, then." She looked down at woman again. "You ever had to pick up teeth up off the yard with your eyes swollen shut and broken hands, Angel?"

She was able to land four good punches before two members of her gang grabbed her by the arms. Angel jumped off of the ground, her face bleeding profusely.

Ten seconds. Angel shook her head, spitting her front tooth out, her cheekbone obviously shattered, much like the bones in Astrid's hands.

Seven seconds. The toothbrush came out of her waistband. Astrid went to kick her, but the woman holding her left arm twisted the fingers until the crunching bones and searing pain nearly knocked her out.

Five seconds. The toothbrush came out of her waistband. She charged.

Four seconds. Her arm pumped so quickly, Astrid could barely see it. To the left side, the ribcage. Four, five, six times, in and out, the pain escalating by tenfold with each stab. Her head exploded with the pain.

Three seconds. Nine, ten, eleven…Angel kept missing her heart. Astrid knew only that, in that moment.

Astrid's eyes flew to the turret. A slight glint of metal. Warm blood flowed down her side. She began to see spots, and focused on the pain.

There was a sharp sound, and the stabs stopped. Everyone in the yard hit the ground, their hands behind their head. Even after everyone was down, warning shots were fired off onto the grounds. Astrid fell down the wall of her own accord. A streak of red stained the grey wall as she slid.

_Time's up._

* * *

Moja snapped back to the present. She was on her side, her face in the dirt. A position she remembered. Her arm tenderly reached up to her left side, gingerly feeling there. There, where smooth skin was but a few moments ago, were fifteen puncture wounds. She hissed, ripping her hand away from the affected area.

Her eyes, blurry from the pain, barely registered that her hand came back bloody.

_Don't remember, you fucking idiot. Don't remember anymore. _

Everything went black.


	51. So Long Lives This

Astrid awoke, but she was in a different place. A different time. Her lungs were completely empty, the burning there so painful that she sat up on her elbows immediately, gulping in breaths. A tall figure came forward, her slim body sheathed in gold silk, her golden skin glistening. Astrid stared at the woman, her face long and her eyes black, beautiful in its severity. Straight blue-black hair fell around her like a silk curtain. The woman raised her arm slightly, slapping Astrid quite soundly across the face. The woman's own face was furious, but her voice was cold as she spoke. "Good. You're awake. Did you enjoy your little excursion in the Hereafter?"

Astrid's throat went cold. He had done it. He had actually killed her. "I suppose you know who did this to me?" She gestured to the stitched and angry fissure in her back, her brain still unable to process much. She was on a table belly-down, and her mother was there.

And her mother was not happy.

"You let this happen, Draga. Do not place blame, you foolish girl." She turned her back on her daughter, her hair flying around her like a black cape.

"A job has come up for you, Hunter. You're going to need a while to prepare."

She eyed her mother suspiciously. "How long, exactly, mother?"

The woman began walking out of the room. "A very long time, Draga. A very, very long time."

* * *

She opened her eyes. She saw dirt, brush, and rocks. Her face and head felt them too.

_She opened her eyes. She was met with bright golden ones. His smile lit them up. _

"Shut the FUCK up." Dust flew into the air as she spoke to nothing. She was afraid to move; the uncomfortable but suddenly familiar feeling of clothing stuck to bloody skin present on her side.

_She didn't want to move if it would wake him up. _

"Shut up."

"_Shut the fuck up. I like your dumb fucking freckles." _

She sighed, willing the burning in her nose away.

She rolled her eyes upward; it was nighttime. She was out for a while; maybe days. She closed them again at the throbbing headache that she was rewarded by the movement.

Quite suddenly, the feeling of tearing flesh and sharp metal tore through her back. Even as her lungs filled to scream, the pain rendered her dumb. She saw red.

Her jaw clenched down, and she heard more than felt her teeth grind and pop. _This killed you last time. _

_His hand slid down her side in a motion that burned and felt heavenly at the same time. "Where did these come from?" _His voice was distorted in her mind, his face a fog. She closed her eyes. _What a shame, he had such a nice voice._

"_Your name is weird."_

"_You're weird."_

_What is your name?_

"Stop." She said it low, under her breath. "Please stop."

_Bezimen. _

"Quit."

_Namenlos._

"No."

_Nameless._

She sucked in her breath, her pain now a dull ache. "I am not nameless. My name is Moja."

She rolled onto her knees, her entire form quivering. She sat on her knees for a while as the golden man sat at the back of her eyes, waiting for her to try and remember him again. "My name is Moja."

Her eyes flew open. "My name is Moja."

_No it's not._

* * *

"Brother? You've been silent this whole trip." Alphonse turned from the window with a sigh. His eyes were trained on his brother, who looked worse for wear. His eyes were on the landscape flying past them in the train and his mind a million miles away. He didn't even look over to Al when he spoke.

Edward's temple rested on his curled fist, the feeling of skin on skin a strange relief.

"Tell me about her." Alphonse's voice grew quiet.

Edward didn't look from the window, but spoke; "Who?"

Alphonse sighed again, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Astrid."

Edward's eyes turned to fire as he flicked them towards his brother. It was the look of a madman. His brows were furrowed and his mouth pursed. His nostrils flared as he breathed heavily. Alphonse nearly sat back in fear, but he kept still. The smile he gave his brother was assuring.

Edward seemed to realize who he was looking at and immediately softened. He smiled back, although rigidly, then looked to the ground. "Astrid?"

Alphonse nodded, eager for the knowledge of this mystery woman. "Was she your friend?"

Edward smiled again, this time an actual smile on his face. "We were, yes. Are."

"What did she look like?"

Edward raised an eyebrow at his brother.

Al's blush spread across his nose at that. "For detective purposes only, of course. I need to know who we're looking for." He cleared his throat.

Edward's eyes got a far-off look again. "She not as pretty as Winry." He smiled. "But she smiles and it's like…" _Like she's the most beautiful woman in the world. _He noticed his brother staring at him, and he shrugged. "She's got black hair, down to the middle of her back." _Two little dimples right below the abrupt end of her hair on either side of her spine. _"Grey eyes." _Silver. _"A scar from her temple through her eyebrow." _He'd traced that scars with his fingertips so many times. _He cleared his throat. "Tall. Thin. I don't know what else you want me to say."

His brother's slow smile crept slowly upward. "What's she like?"

Edward chuckled. "She's like being caught in a bad windstorm in the desert; the breeze feels good, but you're still getting the shit stung out of you by all the sand." His smile grew. "She's tough. Tougher than most men. She likes to pretend she can't be kind. She's…" "She has her moments, but she's kind of dumb." _If she ever heard that, he'd be dead. _He laughed as he pictured her throwing a coffee cup at him, screaming at him. He shook his head again, realizing he was letting his brother get him carried away. "I don't know what you want me to say with all this."

"Quit," said Alphonse, "you keep holding it to yourself. Tell me; I'm your brother, remember? Or have you forgotten after all those years?"

"You know I never forgot once." Ed's eyes were flinty as he looked at his brother.

"You liked her?"

Ed leaned back, his fist curling under his chin this time, and looked back out the window. "No." He sighed. "I loved her."

* * *

"You can't bury her, brother, she's not dead."

The pounding in Astrid's head increased tenfold at the sound of the deep voice from above her.

"Yeah, well, no one asked you. Besides, she's not going to get any better like that. She's bleeding everywhere." Another voice, the tone of it tickling the back of her mind like a familiar lover.

Astrid opened her eyes slightly, just enough to make out the pink and purple sky. It must have been seven or eight hours since she had bit the dust, quite literally.

"Brother…" The other voice seemed angry.

"Come on, Al, kids get lost in these hills all the time." She heard a sigh come from the man. "She probably won't even live to see midday." Rough hands pulled back the ripped side of her shirt, and he hissed. "Someone ripped into her good. A jagged weapon…wood, maybe?"

"No. No splinters. And they seem as though she's had them for a while. If she's still not dead after that, that's saying something, isn't it?"

Astrid wished she were dead, then. The pain in her side was brought back to life with a vengeance, as well as a tear in her back that she was suddenly sure she got over a decade ago.

"No, someone got her in her back, too. This wound seems older, but not as healed. Does that make sense to you? Cause it sure as fuck doesn't to me."

Hands lifted her up from under her arms, and she was thrown over a shoulder. Her head lolled on the man's back, broad and tough. She let her cheek rest against it.

"Alphonse, what are you doing?"

The back moved with a sigh. "Seriously, brother, we're not going to leave her here."

"It's not her, Alphonse."

"Okay, but we can't leave her to die, no matter if she isn't yours. Now, we've missed the train. I say we make a fire and try to tend to this girl's wounds. We won't make it to Central City tonight even if we continued walking."

"I'm fucking hungry." The other man's voice turned into a low growl. "We walked for ten miles looking for food, and we find a half-dead girl instead."

"Well, you're the one who decided to stop over in bloody Aerugo because you 'felt' you needed to. _And _you're the one who wandered off the trail because you 'felt' something was up in these hills. Now, we have a half-dead girl."

"Don't you blame me, Alphonse Elric. You want a fist in the face?"

The back next to her cheek moved as the man laughed. "You've never bested me, not once. Now, I need to see to her injuries. Lets set up camp and go hunting. It'll be like the old days."

"Feh. Old days my ass. What're we gonna eat, rocks? Maybe her."

The back heaved yet again in a sigh, and Moja's world went dark.


End file.
